


The Wolf God's Betrothed

by ClicheMoniker



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Abandonment, F/M, Fade Sex, Fade Tongue, God Complex, Jealous Cullen Rutherford, Jealous Fenris (Dragon Age), Jealous Solas (Dragon Age), Loss of Virginity, Love Triangles, Miscarriage, Pregnancy, Pregnancy Kink, Slow Burn, Suicide Attempt, Teacher-Student Relationship, Virginity Kink, dominant solas
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-21
Updated: 2020-06-23
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:54:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 28,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24831190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClicheMoniker/pseuds/ClicheMoniker
Summary: Astrid, a 17 year old Dalish elf has not yet received the rite of the vallaslin and is thrown into a world of chaos, separated from her clan and finds herself falling madly in love with the most feared and hated of their gods.This is my first fanfic, I take some liberties so it isn't entirely cannon, please be gentle. Will post more and edit / add as I finish editing all that I have.Smut starts after her birthday in ~ Chapter 8. Thanks for reading!
Relationships: Female Lavellan/Cullen Rutherford, Female Lavellan/Solas, Fenris/Female Lavellan, Male Hawke/Merrill
Comments: 3
Kudos: 29





	1. It starts with an explosion.

The explosion wrecked the sky, illuminating a familiar glow.

His orb had been used. He quickened his pace, foregoing rest to reach his destination in urgency. 

He meant to reclaim his power, and put things back to the way they were, to restore the glory to his people. Only what was awaiting him, was not what was expected. 

He was approached by unfamiliar forces, seized, and questioned by a battle hardened woman with a thick Nevarran accent. Her eyes narrowed at him under her short dark hair, interrogating him in an accusing tone. He was an elven apostate, and deeply distrusted in this world ruled by the human chantry. He chose his words wisely, putting her at ease and earning his freedom. He was escorted to a cell, where a frail, lifeless form lay. 

Green light cackled and sparked from her palm. This magic is all too familiar to him, but so strangely bonded to this tiny woman. 

He was ordered to heal her, to bring her to consciousness, before the soldiers turned heel, and left them alone. 

He knelt on the stone floor scattered with hay, next to where she lay unconscious on a dingy bed roll. His focus was drawn to her hand, the magic was definitely his. He welled with power, drawing from the fade, and pushed calming energy into the mark. It lessened its intense fury, and seemed stable for the time being. 

He finally turned his attention to the rest of her, looking her over. Delicate elven features, tiny slightly upturned nose leading to full lips, long ashen hair loosely tied into a braid. She was pretty, and her sleeping face looked serene. Her skin was unmarked so she was likely a city elf from the slums or a very young Dalish one. 

His eyes roamed over her form, lithe body in tight leathers that were decorated in a simple, yet beautiful manner.

Her breathing was steady, her eyes yet closed, he raised a hand to her face, lightly brushing his fingers against her skin. Her flesh was shockingly cool to the touch, and revealed the poor state she was in. Someone had mumbled that she had fallen out of a rift, and he was not sure if she would yet live, but she had to be the link to his orb, to regaining his power. 

He rubbed his hands together, warming them, before hovering them over her body, once again channeling power from the fade to send healing energy to her, using his mind's eye to visualize the revitalization, and searching for injuries in need of attention. 

When he was drained of mana, his arms dropped to his side, and she still lay motionless on the mat. He sighed, it was going to be a long night. He looked at her again, feeling a little defeated. She was beautiful, and he was curious about her. He leaned in towards her and inhaled deeply where her braid fell over her shoulder at the crook of her neck. She smelled of sweet herbs, flowers, and hints of an earthiness that could only be described as the forest. 

Standing he walked to a nearby wall, and slumped against it, leaning his head against the cold stone, and closing his eyes. He would try another way to find her.

A scene faded forth from the darkness, a lush forest, and a cacophony of life teaming within it. He raised his nose and sniffed the air, before taking off into the woods. 

He ran, freely, jumping over logs, through foliage, and darting between trees. He loved the hunt, his heart pounded as he followed the trail. His primal beast always takes over in this form. He slowed, as the scent grew stronger, his long ears twitched listening closely to the goings on around him. His prey was close, and he licked his chops in anticipation. He stepped carefully around a tree and peered into a large clearing. His feet silent on the moist earth. 

The woman was in the center of the clearing, she wore a white linen shift that was untied, open at the neck, her hair unbraided fell loosely around her shoulders and down her back. She was accompanied by a single halla, it’s head, white spiraling ivory horns cradled in her lap as she gently stroked the beast's face. Such gentle tenderness and beauty. 

The beast within him wanted to claim, to destroy, but he restrained himself, and simply observed her. She seemed so peaceful and content. So innocent. Who was this strange girl, where did she come from, and how did she get mixed into his world. He dropped his gaze, considering thoughtfully. He brought his eyes to her again, and pressed forward. 

Sensing him, her eyes darted to the tree line, she froze in fear, her chest heaved and he could hear her heart pound as she was filled with adrenaline. The halla shot up, sensing him as well, and bounded away. He circled, confidently, like the predator he was. Just barely out of sight. Sadistically enjoying the panic he instilled in her.

Finally, his red eyes met her wide blue green eyes as he stepped forward into the clearing. Her breath caught in her throat at the recognition. 

“Fen’harel” the name came out, barely a whisper. She looked so small, so vulnerable and helpless then. He bristled, his pride swelling, the elves had not, in fact, forgotten their old gods. 

He heard footsteps on the stone floor and woke himself from the dream, fading away into smoke. 

He opened his eyes, adjusting to the candle lit darkness. 

A guard opens the gate to the cell, and escorts him away.


	2. Haven

That morning he is out fighting demons that have been falling from the rifts in the sky, when the Short haired Navarran woman he now knows as Cassandra approaches with the ashen haired elf girl with the crackling green magic emanating from her hand, a bow strapped to her back which she grabbed before releasing a few well places arrows dropping the demons that he and the dwarf Varric were fighting. He grabbed the girls hand and held it up towards the rift, power emanated from the mark and it was closed. 

“What did you do?” She asked, confused.  
“I did nothing, the credit is yours.” He returned, watching her intensely.  
She looked down at her palm with a pained face before adding “I guess this is good for something.”  
She was indeed quite young, he determined, and her ability with a bow? A dalish hunter perhaps? That would explain why she recognized him in the fade. In his limited experience since waking city elves had little knowledge of their history, and were no better than slaves assigned to alianages which were essentially slums. How far his people had fallen.  
He gave some flippant explanation of how he knew the mark would close the rift without revealing too much to those around him. 

When the scene had settled, introductions were made. Varric was boysterous and showy, as usual, wordsmithing his way around things. He liked the dwarf well enough, but kept his distance as he did with all people. These were a means to an end for him and he would not forget his purpose.  
“My name is Solas if there is to be introductions, I am pleased to see you still live.” He said with a bit of a smile, it wasn’t a lie, if she had died the mark may have been rendered useless and the power lost forever.  
“He means ‘I kept that mark from killing you while you slept.’” Varric interjected. He did not mind the added credit for his ministrations.  
The girl prodded with him with more questions about his knowledge, and tho Cassandra tried to dismiss it as him being an apostate, he acknowledged his extensive knowledge of the fade, but also disavowed any knowledge of this particular magic, and added that it was far more powerful than would be known to any run of the mill mage. 

Conversation is cut short as there is more fighting in the valley below and more work to be done, especially now that the girl is awake and they have a tool to possibly fight back against the horde of demons pouring forth from the sky. After fighting one particularly powerful demon that almost kills them, and renders her unconscious once again, the head back to Haven to regroup and recover. 

There, she is tended to by the resident healer Aiden, and also frequently checked on by Solas. She wakes in a mostly empty cabin, startling an elven servant, she tries to calm the elf but it shouts out it’s orders and runs away fearful. 

She dresses and braves the snow covered ground to seek out Cassandra as she is instructed to do. They have an altercation with a priest of the chantry who would see Astrid strung up for her part in the destruction of the conclave, as he sees her mark as nothing more than damning proof of her guilt. 

It is then that she meets the fire heard Leliana, and the dashing Cullen. He is tall and broad, serious brows knit over sorrowful eyes, he is strong but also appears to have seen much, he is very handsome and Astrid blushes in his presence even though she has never cared for shems as they seemed to always have ulterior motives. 

She wonders the camp and eventually runs into Solas again, his cabin is on the other side, close to the healers, and the tavern. Besides the servant he is the only other elf she has met and thus she feels the most comfortable with him, as she is now alone and separated from her clan. She often seeks him out in his study, surrounded by ancient tomes, and asks him questions about his experiences in the fade, and magic, and the former glory of their people, and he is more than pleased to speak about it, she hangs on to his every word. At first she sees him as a big brother type, and then teacher, and starts to call him “hahren” in respect. Solas calls her da’len in turn. 

She is friendly towards the others, but is inherently an outsider. Many still whisper suspicions of her guilt even though she has no magical skill at all. She is undoubtedly beautiful, eliciting attention and stares wherever she goes whether from people in the camp or when they venture out on various tasks. Often in hushed tones, using vulgar language to discuss what they would do to that “knife eared bitch if they ever got a hold of her.” 

Often if the words came from soldiers, Solas would let the commander know to keep his men in line, but as refugees and mercenaries or roughians would wander through the camps, some nights he would take care of those on his own. People going missing, or gruesome scenes of grizzly death with no evidence or explanation on why they were murdered. 

Late one night Solas hears a soft knock at the door, and he lifts his head from a musty book he had spent too many hours on, and blinking his eyes adjusted to the darkness. He stood, and walked to the door, wearing only loose sleeping pants.  
He opened the heavy wooden door, and a blast of cold air entered the room from the snowy night outside. He recognized Astrids’s petite form, and quickly ushered her inside from the cold. The hour was late, and she was shivering, wearing what appeared to be the thin clothes a tavern wench would wear, the top of her dress cut low and exposing the top of her small pert breasts.  
She sobbed, and he pulled her into an embrace, partially embarrassed at his lustful gaze.  
She sank against his form, and he could feel her wet tears on his shoulder.  
“Shhh,” he soothed, rocking her slightly. “What happened?”

She pulled back and looked up at him with glassy eyes rimmed in red. He finally smelled the alcohol on her, she was drunk. “They grabbed me, they were waiting outside the tavern..” she sobbed out, her breath heaving with her tears, the restrictive nature of her corset making it hard for her to catch her breath. 

He guided her by the hand, to the bed, where she sat, then fell back onto the soft furs, still shaking and sobbing. Her hair fell around her like an ashen halo, and her breasts threatened to spill free, and her skirts hiked higher on her thighs, exposing the milky white skin. He knelt over her, and his fingers expertly went to work on the lacings of her corset. It finally fell open, and she was able to breath normally, quick shallow breaths replaced by deeper and slower ones. He cursed himself as being on top of her in this state aroused him greatly, he banished the thoughts of ravaging her there on the bed, but the beast within him would not be ignored. He slumped to her side and propped himself on his elbow. 

She curled towards him, hiding her face. He comfortingly stroked her hair, and tucked it behind her slender ears. She had stopped shivering and crying, but her face was still flushed, and her eyes swollen. 

“Tell me what happened, starting with why you are drunk.” His tone was clearly disapproving.  
She sniffed, before finally starting with, “Varric had suggested we play a game of wicked grace.” She spun a story of how she borrowed clothes from a servant girl because her armour was being mended, and she had not yet acquired much else. As she was losing the game, her alternative to removing clothes was to drink more, something she wasn’t accustomed to doing in the first place. On top of that, a group of ruffians in a far corner were talking about her, which of course she could hear every word with her Elven ears, and she didn’t want to leave for fear they would come after her. 

She waited till they had been gone a while, and finally decided to brave the cold and head back to her cabin, only to be ambushed in the night, they surrounded and grabbed her, but she twisted out of their reach, and faught free of their circle and ran towards him instead. 

He embraced her close to him, when she finished her story and tears began to fall again, quietly now. 

“They don’t know who I am, they just see a pair of knife ears and see a victim, trash, something they can take and do with as they please.” She spit out hatefully, before adding “I hate this world, we don’t deserve this.” 

He pulled away finally and looked down at her tenderly, his stormy grey eyes meeting her teal ones. Her face turned from anger, to questioning. “You kill them, don’t you hahren?” His pride swelled, and he smiled, “Yes da’len.” She wiped her tears on the bare skin of his chest, and he tucked another strand of white blonde hair behind her ear, his finger stroking the length softly as he did so. The contact drew her attention again, and her breath hitched in her throat. She looked up at him again, her eyes now heavy lidded, and her flush looking more like arousal at their closeness, “Can I stay here with you, hahren?” He nods affirmatively, and it’s everything he can do to hold back and be controlled in her inebriated state. He offers her one of his shirts and turns his back respectfully as she changes from the wenches clothes, and into his shirt. When she is finished she approaches him, and spins showing it off like a new dress waiting for his approval, and he chuckles, the ill fitting shirt is oversized on her petite form and only barely covers the bottom of her smalls leaving the pale flesh of her slender legs exposed, they are smooth and he bites his lip imagining having them wrapped around his waist as he buries himself to the hilt inside her.  
“Do you want to go to bed now?” She gestured towards the narrow bed pressed up against the wall. Her question was innocent enough, and he adjusted his erection to more easily hide it, and coughed a little. “Ah no, I want to do a bit more reading first, you go ahead and he nodded towards the bed, “I will dim the light as to not disturb you” he added.  
She walked over to the bed and slipped between the furs, “what are you reading Hahren?” She called out to him.  
He loved when she asked him about things like this and started into a spiel about the fade and elven magic and history and after a few minutes he was interrupted by her soft snores. He stepped over towards the bed to confirm, her face serene and peaceful, she was so beautiful. He dimmed the lantern, and slipped into the furs next to her, she was ill positioned to leave room for both of them on the narrow bed, and he scooted next to her trying not to disturb her, but when nudged she did not stir. The alcohol had knocked her out cold, and it was good that she found him. He felt as if he should have a stern talking to Varric being so irresponsible letting a young girl drink heavily and leave into the night alone. He was strangely protective of her, and not simply because she held the power of his orb.

The next morning he wakes when the first glints of sunlight beam through the window, he yawns and stretches, immediately aware that he is not alone and the events of the night before flooding back. He is on his back and tightly entwined by Astrid who is still fast asleep. His shirt that she is wearing is hiked up around her waist now, exposing her smalls, and her sex is pressed up against his hip and the contact is hot, her leg is draped across his waist and his morning erection is straining through the thin fabric of his pants into her thigh. Her head is resting on his bare chest at the crook of his arm and she is snoring a little. He showed great restraint and respect with her last night but this morning it was significantly more difficult. His eyes rake over her exposed body, her soft milky white skin, her lean form with all the right curves, the roundness of her butt and pert breasts now pressed into his side. His hand ghosts over her skin, wanting nothing more than to touch her, roam over her flesh and take his time enjoying her. It had only been a couple hours yet since she came to him, and likely she was still intoxicated. He wanted her, but not like this. Instead, he gently removed the leg from his body and pulled down the shirt to cover her modesty. He dressed, and headed out into the cold winter air. 


	3. The Path to Skyhold

She trains frequently in the yard with Cullen who is attempting to diversify her fighting techniques by adding hand to hand combat. She is a strong fighter, resourceful with lightning fast reflexes and her quick thinking and decision making narrowly saves the people of Haven. After having been a pain in Corypheus’s side one too many times he finally marches on them, seeking to squash their still tiny movement. Solas helps evacuate the people up into the mountain but as he turns back to join her, a massive avalanche of rock and ice and snow is triggered, covering the compound, extinguishing the last of the fires and sending the valley into darkness. 

He felt a pain deep in his chest that was curious to him as he sullenly marched up the mountain side with the rest of the refugees. Trying to come to terms with the loss of the power of his orb in it’s mortal body. She was so fearless in her determination to go head to head with Corypheus that maybe he too had been unrealistically swayed by the likelihood of her survival. He felt every bit as lost as everyone around him in the dark and cold, unsure of how he should proceed with his job only half done and still weak from his long sleep. 

They stopped for a rest after what seemed like hours of walking, he took a seat under a tree close in to the trail, and began to meditate, reaching out in the fade as it often kept the secrets he needed answers to. 

The ice and snow melts away and he finds himself in a clearing surrounded by tall grass and spring flowers near a bubbling brook, he walks through the waist tall greenery, the tips tickling the palms of his outstretched hands, the sun warmed his skin as he walked through the field, a gentle breeze carried seeds that slowly floated through the air, contributing to the ethereal feel of the scene. He was joined by a figure, it had no clear form and floated above the ground, curiously following him.  
“What is it that you search for wolf?” it asks him.  
He contemplates the wording of his answer, “A new way forward.” he said finally.  
The figure tilted its head “What is wrong with the way you had before?”  
“She died, and with it the power she held.” Solas furrowed his brow and scowled.  
“Yes, I sense your pain wolf,” the spirit responded, “but she is not dead, and the power is still intact.”  
He stopped walking and spun to face the ghostly figure, “Do not play with me spirit, no one could survive the cascade of earth that I watched fall forth.” he said in a serious and somewhat commanding tone.  
The spirit bowed, and sort of danced away, “She comes now, wolf!” it called out before disappearing between the trees. 

He awoke with a start, and stood, wobbling a bit from the fast movement. He jogged back down the trail, and sure enough, saw a figure, crumpled in the snow, covered in a light dusting of powder. He went to her, a wave of relief washed over him, as he pulled her up toward him, she was limp, cold, but still very much alive. He lifted her into his arms, and walked swiftly as he could towards the camp in the deep snow. They had set up a handful of tents, and people gathered around fires warming themselves. “Bed, I need a bed!” he shouted towards the crowd, Cullen and the others in the counsel were gathered discussing various things and rushed towards him, seeing that he had Astrid in his arms, Josephine pointed and directed them to a tent which had a handful of cots set up. 

He laid her gently on one of the cots, and shouted that someone bring him a blanket and warm water, a few people scattered till they returned with the requested items in hand. He went to work at once calling on the power of the fade and driving healing energy into her, but this time it was no longer under the behest of the Chantry or under threats of violence, but instead because she was his Da’len and he had grown rather fond of her. He looked at her sleeping face, redness from the cold on her nose and cheeks giving her a flushed appearance. He felt something real when he thought he had lost her, and he mulled it over a bit while he worked, unsure of what to call it other than some abstract connection. 

People began to gather as word spread quickly of her survival that defied all odds, whispers could be heard that she was under divine protection. They were of course referring to Andraste, but he smiled to himself in the accuracy of the statement. She woke finally, and he helped her sit up, and drink some water. She rested a while, and it was agreed when she was well enough that it was time to continue their path forward, and led the way, with no destination yet known. 

He was impressed by the loyalty that she commanded from her peers and followers, folk of all races and not just elves, some because they believed in her divine ordination, others because of her leadership, skill and bravery in battle in facing their enemies. He recognized the opportunity in that power, and decided to facilitate her further by showing her the path to an ancient bastion that would be their saving. 

Once they are established in Skyhold, she is formally named Inquisitor, the counsel also sees potential and value in how she leads the people as the Herald of Andraste. She may be the leader of the organization in name, but he wonders how much power a still easily influenced young woman has, and if she is not still a puppet.


	4. Life at Skyhold

She becomes a bit more comfortable venturing around in her newfound position of Inquisitor, socializing with people and exploring more corners of the castle. She visits the tavern with increased frequency, not necessarily to drink, even if that always seems to be Iron Bull’s mission, as she learned better of it from her run in at Haven. Mostly because she loves hearing Varric's stories of Hawke and Kirkwell, and everything in between. She is always mindful to show up with a couple extra layers in case a game of Wicked Grace is played. She even finagles getting a copy of a much desired book from him for Cassandra, winning favor of both of them, as Varric always enjoys a good ego stroke that he has fans all over. Bull coaxes her out of her shell a bit more and the chargers are a fun if not rowdy group, she sometimes playfully flirts with Krem who she can tell is sweet on her but that she doesn’t know harbors a secret. Bull helps her to know her soldiers and what they fight for on a more personal level which lends to her feeling of purpose in this whole thing. Too often she worries she is more like a glorified pawn being manipulated. 

Operating out of Skyhold, they run into another elf, Sera, while out on a mission. She expresses an interest in joining the inquisition, a skilled bowman in her own right, Astrid agrees, excited that there will be another elf around. She tried her hardest to befriend her but Sera is dismissive and makes her distaste of the Dalish girl clear. There is also something off about Sera, with the way she talks about other women, that Astrid can’t quite place. She discusses letting her go with the counsel as her opinion is that Seras skills are redundant as she is already plenty good with a bow. Because of their personality conflicts she never invites her on missions but Cullen convinces her that her network of spies is a useful strategic asset and she trusts his judgement and consents to keeping her around. She spends her time in the pub and so her and Solas have very little contact with Sera and she is generally left to do as she pleases if it isn’t too majorly inconvenient to the day to day operations of the Inquisition. 

She develops a girlish crush on Cullen, he is a bit awkward but sweet, and they occasionally play chess or he can be found at their games of Wicked Grace. She listens to him talk about his family and being in the Templar Order, the fall of Kirkwell and whether or not it was very accurately described in Varric's books, and she is there for him when he suffers his lyrium withdrawal and supports him to avoid it. Solas is jealous of their budding friendship and he thinks he knows very clearly what Cullen is interested in. He disregards Cullen as a barely literate brute, and Astrid is always offended on his behalf when he makes jeers at Cullens expense.

Hawke shows up at Varric's request, brings his pregnant partner Merril, and companion Fenris. She becomes fast friends with Merril, loving having another Dalish around to commiserate with. She visits Solas a little less, and her and Merril often steal away into the forest and weave trinkets out of flowers, dance in fields and tame animals or whatever it is that Dalish girls do, Solas thought to himself. Cassandra was enraged at Varric feeling lied to when he hid the whereabouts of Hawke till he felt that his presence was absolutely necessary. Fenris mostly keeps to himself, spending most of his days and nights in the tavern drinking. Cole reads his thoughts and reveals his pain to her. At one point, Fenris and Dorian have an altercation that sets the tone for their relationship and they are careful to avoid one another from that point on.   
She is incredibly attracted to, and yet wary of Fenris. Dark and broody, and often in Varric's stories, she wants nothing more than to befriend the elf, but he makes it clear that he considers the leader of the Inquisition to be nothing more than a spoiled brat. 

There is much to do in making allies, and expanding their power and influence. The inquisition also happens to be the only entity actively fighting the rifts and bringing relief to the people in any meaningful way as most governments are busy fighting one another or the lands are torn apart by the Templar / Mage war. Astrid builds a solid team with which to set forth and accomplish these goals. 

Solas, of course, as he is a powerful mage and she is closest to him still, and she worked her bow. Varric mastered traps and was generally a pleasure, his stories were entertaining and helped to pass time traveling from location to location. Cole and Solas were peas in a Fade pod, and he was their close hand to hand combat man working with daggers, an incredibly deadly spirit. Hawke was their sword and shield man, and his companion Fenris their heavy 2 handed damage dealer. Solas detested the pro-circle Vivienne, and the feeling was mutual, she felt Cole was an abomination, and so did Cassandra if she was totally honest. Blackwell always seemed like he was hiding something and she never fully trusted him, and Sera didn’t care for herself or Solas, or any Elf that wasn’t actively trying to deny their heritage like she was, so she probably disliked Fenris as well, but she doubted they ever spent any time around one another. Bull was fine, a bit crude, but his skills were redundant with Fenris around, and she so very much wanted to spend more time with him, that his comfort, and also Solas’s pressure around such things helped determine who came with her on missions, and who were sent on their own. Plus Bull often led his Chargers on various missions by themselves. Better than paying him to take up space in the tavern she figured. 

The travel is pleasant enough, and they are a well balanced and efficient team who dispatch their enemies without any strenuous effort. They bunk in pairs, her and Solas, Fenris and Hawke, Varric and Cole. Varric keeps the mood generally lighthearted and makes many comments about "Broody" and "Chuckles" as he likes to refer to her elven companions that often cause her to giggle at their expense. 

She is alone in a dark forest, unarmed, and dressed only in her sleeping shift. She has the acute feeling of being watched, her hunter fast approaches, glints of black fur can be seen under the light of the full moon. Her heart races and she starts to run, barefoot, through grass, leaping over tree roots, ducking and weaving through the trees of the forest, snapping twigs and the sound of hear own heart and breathing drowns out all other noises. She realizes she no longer knows where he is and if she is even running in the right direction. She stops and catches her breath, trembling, and straining to listen for him. She is instead approached by another warm body. He presses his form to her back, and whispers in her ear sending shivers up her spine. "What do you think he wants from you?" he asks in a curious but leading tone. Her eyes search the trees for signs of the red eyed dread wolf. She turns to face him finally, without increasing the distance between them so they are still barely touching. Her blue green eyes glint in the moonlight and she looks up at him. "he wants to possess me." she answers, almost trancelike. He is dressed only in a pair of thing pants, his muscular body on full display, each ripple highlighted by the celestial body above, as he moves to tuck a wayward hair behind her slender ear. He radiates heat she can feel at their closeness. He wants to seize his prey, claim her as his, but continues to toy with her instead. 

She wakes from her Fade nightmare, heart still pounding, and dressed in only her shift, exits the tent into the stillness of night. Her hair is neatly plaited into a long braid that falls to her waist. 

The fire is low, but still lit, everyone has retired except Fenris who stares into the flames and sips from a glass bottle. She approaches him and the thin fabric of her shift is sheer when backlit by the fire, showing off the details of her lithe body underneath. An intoxicated Fenris drinks in the form before him with a burning desire in his eyes, before catching himself, and coughing/averting his eyes. 

She gestures to the seat next to him by the fire. He nods without looking at her again. She sits, and neither of them say anything. He offers her the bottle he is drinking from, and she accepts it, her hand brushes against one of the lyriam marks in his skin causing his breath to catch, and startling her at his reaction.   
“Do they hurt?” She finally gets out, barely above a whisper.   
“Immensely” he responds gruffly.   
She brings the bottle to her lips and tilts her head back, the burning liquid within causing her to choke and cough as it hits her throat.   
He chuckles at her reaction, as she wipes the liquid from her chin, and shivers at its strength, her nipples hardening. She hands the bottle back and giggles herself. They go back and forth for a while, in mostly companionable silence, feeling relaxed and warmed by the liquor in their belly and the dwindling ashes of the fire.   
Finally, she musters up the courage. “Can I ask you about them?”   
He glares into the fire, and kicks one of the logs, bringing the fire back to life and sending an explosion of sparks into the night sky to die among the stars.   
He explains they are slave markings, and what powers they give him. Who his former master was, and what being in Tavinter was like, how he came to be in the service of Hawke and what he has gone through to escape his former master. 

He looks at her only at the end of his tale, her face full of empathy and sorrow for his experience, his brow furrowed, unsure and uncomfortable with the seeming intimacy and caring emanating from her and the situation. Her large teal eyes looked as if they were holding back tears that might spill forth at any moment. 

“I am sorry” she said finally, knowing there weren't many words that could lessen the pain of a lifetime of suffering. 

He shrugged and took another swig, emptying the remnants of the bottle they had shared before throwing it into the fire. She placed her hands on his arm, seemingly already forgotten that he said it was painful. He didn't flinch or make any indication or reaction, but his eyes met hers, and he felt so drawn in by this beautiful girl of few words. “Thank you for sharing your story with me,” she said in earnest. He nodded, his heart suddenly pounding at her close proximity. He studied the features of her face more carefully, flawless and youthful, she was young and beautiful, and as a rogue stayed far enough from the fray he believed she probably didn't have a single scar on her, unlike his own heavily marked skin. She shivered, the cold finally catching up to them, and it broke their intense moment of what he didn’t know or understand. She stood, “goodnight Fenris” and retired to the tent she shared with the mage he thought with disgust. 

She tiptoed into the tent, and slipped into the furs opposite a sleeping Solas, or so she thought. He lay motionless, listening to all the happenings outside of the tent from the moment she got up and left. He disapproved greatly of her socializing with the brutish slave as Solas considered Fenris with a mutual distaste. 

She snored softly, and he let himself follow into the fade. 

The wolf circled silently as a great wooden bed formed in the middle of an ancient forest. It sniffed the air and smelled her arousal, approaching silently. She knelt, straddling the lap of a still unseen fantasy man, till his arms circled her waist and lifted up her shift, and the clear blue lines etched into tanned skin were clearly seen. They kissed and his calloused hands roamed over the perfect fair skin of her flesh and she moaned in reaction. Solas turned away from the dream, jealousy flared in him, more so than any other time she seemed to have a girlish crush on some shem like Cullen. She cared enough about preserving the traditions of her people that she would only ever consider taking one of their own as a mate. 

He reflected on his reaction, before he felt possessive because of the mark, but now? Did he want her? She was beautiful of course, sweet if not idyllic and naïve, and showed wisdom at times that impressed him, he definitely felt something strong when he thought he had lost her... he realized than that his feelings did indeed go deeper than simple possessiveness, lust or a need for control. 

Fenris battles his attraction to Astrid, and wrestles back his feelings about the perceived tenderness. He stumbles back to his tent and falls into the furs, Hawke hardly stirs and he pulls off the rest of his armour, before laying back, the cold air licking at the sensitive lines in his skin. His eyes close and his mind keeps drifting back to teal eyes and ashen hair. How he would like to run his hands through it, and pull her close, taste her full lips. He thought about her shape, so plainly apparent through her shift, and the fabric of his smalls tightened against his growing member. She was so young and beautiful, yet an important leader of a massive organization, and she was to be tasked with saving the world. This quiet, soft spoken girl. He huffed and rolled to his side, kicking himself for even a momentary fantasy that he would be anything to her and he let sleep take him.


	5. A Birthday Gift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has a song that goes with it, when Merril and Astrid play and sing together, I imagine it's Nymanen by Ran. 
> 
> Spotify Link:   
> https://open.spotify.com/track/0xfODZEF8FKx8VgpfT2FSi?si=1HNZvn3OSo6mBD0nscAdLQ

It’s Astrids 18th birthday, she wakes early, the sun shining through the windows of her chambers, and she stretches out yawning in the large opulent bed. It appears to be a beautiful spring morning and as tradition would have it in her clan that she would undergo her Vallaslin and transition to a woman. She is saddened by the reflection that she is not with her clan, and wouldn’t know where to find them if she tried. Her keeper would not be giving her a Vallaslin, and she would go on unmarked like a common city elf. She tries not to let it ruin her day and decides to have a more positive outlook on the day. She slips on her clothes, braids her hair in a slightly more ornate style than her plain single braid, and heads down the stairs to breakfast being served in the main hall. She eats her fill of meats and pastries, and has companionable chats with her companions, but no one mentions anything, and she feels a bit dejected. After breakfast she heads to the rotunda to see Solas, only to find that he is missing, and no one has seen him when she asks around. Her mood sinks more as the day progresses, and no one mentions anything to her. 

Eventually she runs into a hurried Merril, who embraces her and gives her a big hug and a kiss, her bump pressing into Astrid, and she beams happily. “I need your opinion on something for the baby if you don’t mind…” she asked Astrid.   
“Of course not,” she mustered some cheerfulness in her response.   
“I have to stop by the tavern to grab something before we head to my quarters, you don’t mind a quick detour, right?” she smiled broadly.   
Astrid shrugged, “I suppose not,” and followed her.   
They pushed open the door and were met with a chorus of “Surprise!” By all her friends and companions.   
They hadn’t forgotten! It was lovely, Merril, with Josephine's assistance, had gone all out, flowers decorated the tables, ribbons were strung up on the rafters. An assortment of cakes and sweets were laid out for people, glasses of ale and mead lined the bar, and the bard started playing a happy tune.

Her friends and companions gather to bestow various gifts on her.   
Josephine handed her a delicately wrapped box containing hair ornaments and a bit of rouge, Astrids ability to impress whoever she flaunts her in front of was always at the top of Josephine's priorities.   
Cullen gifted her with a chess board that had pieces he whittled himself, she smiled, accepted graciously and added “You know this means you will have to make time to play with me more.” and gave him a wink.   
Leliana gave her a beautifully carved dagger with a series of ravens adorning the hilt. Easily concealable in a boot and great as a last resort defense she reasoned, always practical and deadly.   
Varric gave her a signed copy of his book about his time in Kirkwell, because of course he would. He hinted frequently that he was starting a book about her and the Inquisition as well. She joked that she only wanted it if it was the graphic Swords & Shields version of the book, and Cassandra blushed at the comment.   
Iron Bull gave her beautiful and ornate Qunari armour that would leave very little to the imagination. “Let me know if you need assistance putting it on,” he added with a rakish smile. She blushed and thanked him.   
Sera, who surprised her by even showing up, even if she did technically live here, gave her a duffle bag of underwear, a part of some obvious prank, and later in the evening she passed it to Cullen instructing that he make sure his soldiers still have all of their essential supplies.   
Dorian gave her a beautiful amulet, “made by the finest Tivinter artisans,” he added. It was infused with lyrium and emanated protective magic and a faint blue light.   
Fenris watched from above and scoffed at the gift, “handcrafted by slaves is more like it.” he muttered to himself, her elven ears caught the comment and she looked up at him.   
Vivian gave her a beautiful custom made Orlesean ensemble, a bespoke dress made to fit Astrids tiny proportions with accents of gold and teal that matched her eyes, lace gloves, leather shoes and a mask that pulled together the entire look. “Now you have something respectable to wear when I take you around to meet nobility.” Vivian quipped in the backhanded way that she always did. She promptly made her exit after, as what would people say if she was caught dead around such peasantry and rabble. 

Merril gave her a stringed Dalish instrument and added a hug and a kiss to Astrids cheek. “Oh, you have already done so much for me Merril!” she said to her bosom friend, tears filling her eyes at how wonderful the party was so far. 

The bard and Merril and Astrid all pick up instruments and people gather around egging Astrid on to sing, and her angelic voice harmonizes with the music and Merril’s voice and they play and sing a song in their traditional elvish. People clap their hands and stamp in tune with the beat, and she gets up and starts dancing and twirling as all eyes in the tavern are upon her, including Fenris who had put his drink down and was watching intensely and bouncing his knee along, this carefree girl was interesting to him and he was curious. Both Astrid and Merril had the biggest grins as they sang to each other a traditional song in their native tongue, and though Fenris didn’t understand the words, they somehow spoke to his soul like it was familiar and forgotten. A song about honoring nature? Loving it? Honoring a lover? He wasn’t sure. After they finished the crowd erupted in applause and drinks were pushed forward towards her, the bard and a few others took over the music so she could enjoy the rest of her party. 

They drank, danced, ate and enjoyed themselves well into the late evening. Finally sleepy from the dancing and drink, she is ready to call it a night. 

She runs into Fenris as she is leaving the tavern, slamming into him actually as she opened the door, and stumbling, he caught her by the arm, preventing her tumble to the ground. He was also calling it a night in the early hours of the morning.   
“Ah, uh, Inquisitor.” He greeted flatly, dusting himself off before adding “Happy birthday, I am sorry I have no gift for you.”   
She shakes her head and waves him off, “Completely unnecessary, it was sweet of you to be there.”   
She stumbled on some rocks and steadied herself gripping his arm, the searing pain eliciting a quick “ah!” From him.   
She released him immediately, a look of worry on her face. “Oh! Fenris! I am so sorry!” Her face reddened, in embarrassment. 

“I’m not actually that drunk,” she tried to explain. “Just not used to these new boots.” and gestured towards her feet. 

“Well, just in case you have any mishaps with any more wayward rocks on your way, I insist that I offer my services to escort you back.” And he offered his arm to her with a small bow of his head.   
She did a faux curtsy and accepted it, lacing her arm in his. “Well many thanks m’lord” she did her best to mirror the formality that he always spoke to her with, and the both cracked a bit of a smile and giggled.   
“You’re not nearly as bad as they say you are you know.” She started, as if declaring that she saw through his facade. “I actually think you are quite sweet.”   
He scoffed in response, “Well I guess then I shall live to see another day as I have weaseled my way into the inquisitors favors, next I might ask for a pony.” He jested about what special privileges her approval of him could net. She laughed and playfully hit him. 

They walked across the grand hall, which was almost entirely empty, oblivious to the pair of jealous eyes that watched them intently as they walked arm in arm. 

They got to the bottom of the stairs that led up to her room, and she said “I can take it from -hicup- here.” Holding onto the rickety railing of the stairs that were still under construction. He cocked an eyebrow and narrowed his eyes, “you will do no such thing” and he lifted her over his shoulder like she weighed nothing, and climbed the stairs to her room like one would carry a large sack of potatoes and it was wholly unromantic. She protested and then giggled. They reached the door of her room and he pushed it open, dropping her finally on to her soft bed. 

She was sprawled out onto her bed, cheeks flushed, halo of blonde hair that had been pulled loose from her braids, and she was still laughing to herself as if sharing in her own personal joke, and for some reason Fenris found it infectious and fought to hold back his own smile. 

“Well this is hardly how I imagined the first time you being in my chambers would be like,” she flirted brazenly. He coughed, caught off guard by her statement, she was beautiful but he had never seriously entertained the head of the most powerful organization in Thedas in such a way.   
“I apologize for disappointing you so, Inquisitor.” And he gave a small bow. “But I must excuse myself to my own quarters now, mayhaps I should send up a stable boy if you need any more menial tasks done for you.”   
She put on a face of faux offense and threw a pillow at him, which he easily knocked away and chuckled. 

She stood up, and closed the door firmly behind him, tidied her hair, and stripped off her boots and clothes, and pulled her sleeping shift over her head. 

Solas sees Fenris exit, relieved it was so quickly, and makes his way up to her Quarters. 

He rapped on the door, and she called out “back so soon? Were there no stable boys to fulfill my menial tasks?” 

She splashed water on her face, and the door creaked open, drying it, she turned to face not Fenris at all, but Solas. 

“Happy birthday Da’len” he stated, standing at her door which closed behind him. She beamed and ran to him, wrapping her arms around his waist, “Solas! I missed you today, I thought for sure you had forgotten!” she laid her head against his chest.   
He embraced her back, her thin sleeping shift leaving very little to the imagination, and stirring something inside him.   
“Of course not, I had to go retrieve something and it was not easy to find.” He released the embrace, and moved to the bed, sitting down on it. “Come, I have something for you.” He trailed, patting the mattress next to him. She obediently took her place and sat by his side.   
“Today would have been your rite of valleslean in your clan if I am not mistaken?”   
She sensed the contempt in his voice that he always had when remarking on Dalish tradition, but she tried not to take it personally. But his words were true, and she thought a great deal about that the days prior and today, that she was missing out on such a huge part of her cultural heritage, and what marked her visibly as being Dalish to the world, like Merril had.  
She nodded, her expression one of sadness and loss.   
“Had you thought about which god you wanted to honor with such slave markings?” He asked callously.   
Her brows furrowed and she pouted, they had gotten in arguments before and it was a sensitive subject. “No, generally one meditates during their 17th year to determine which god they most align with, and I have been a bit busy with the whole ‘saving the world’ thing.” She rolled her eyes.   
“No matter,” he said, “you are more beautiful without it, and I would hate to see your skin tainted by such marks,” she furrowed her brows at his words, but he continued. “I do have something for you.”   
He reached into a pouch on his belt and presented her with a ring. It was golden, of exquisite craftsmanship, and covered in the runes that made it unmistakably ancient elven, but it also seemed to be in pristine condition. In the center was a wolf's head with 6 tiny red stones as the eyes. Her breath caught in the throat, “Hahren it’s beautiful!” She hugged him again. She held the ring up and tried to read the inscription, but did not recognize some of the symbols. “What does it say?” She asked, big teal eyes meeting his stormy grey ones.   
“It’s a protection ring,” he stated a bit dismissively, “here, allow me.” And he took the ring from her hand and slipped it on to a slender finger where it fit perfectly, he placed a kiss on the back of her hand as if to seal the deal.   
She admired how the red eyes glittered in the firelight.   
“Thank you,” she said earnestly.   
He tucked a wayward ashen hair behind her slender ear and resisted pulling her in for a kiss. “Of course, Da’len” he smiled.


	6. Poisoned Shards

They travel into the desert, the hot sun beating down at them and reflecting back up from the sands. She wears the Qunari armor gifted to her by Bull, and it covers very little, giving her some relief, but also drawing attention from the men in her party, who catch each other staring at her with some frequency. It is almost too hot to have a fire at night when they stop at a small oasis to camp. Too uncomfortable to sleep, a few of them venture off in separate ways to explore, blow off steam, or take advantage of the water to wash away the days dirt from riding, fighting and sweating while being constantly pelted by tiny grains of sand whipped up by the wind. 

She slips into her tent to change into her sleeping shift so she can go find a lone pool to bathe in. This place is alien to her, large, cavernous rocks tower around the pools of water, and the moon above peaks through the openings illuminating things well enough below. She slips off the thin white fabric, and steps into the pool warmed from the day's sun, it was pleasantly comfortable. She dove forward in a deeper part of one, submerging herself completely. She scrubbed and rinsed away the day’s grime, and also played, kicking and splashing in the water. Drawing the attention of curious eyes. She is left to enjoy the water undisturbed, and eventually the air temperature drops enough that it has potential for comfortable sleep, a small breeze floats through the rock pillars bringing relief, drying the water on her skin cooling her. She climbs out of the pool, and wrings out her hair before plaiting it into a manageable braid. She stretches, preferring to air dry. The eyes that watch her are now hungry with desire. Silent, they rake over her pale form in the moonlight. She finally pulls her sleeping shift back on, and fastens it at the neck, returning to camp. The camp is empty, and she knows not who is in their tent sleeping, and who is still out and about. She retires to the tent she shares with Solas, his form is still, and she lays on top of her bed roll as it is too hot to bother with covers. 

The next day they encounter a terrible beast, it spits forth poisoned shards, and she jumps forward, interjecting to save Fenris from one such attack. She is badly wounded as one penetrates deeply, squarely into her abdomen. She crumples to the ground, and enraged, Solas’s power flares and cracks and the beast is finished. He rushes to her side where Fenris is already crouched. She is delirious from the poison and losing consciousness.  
“Leave her! This is your fault!” He shouts at the other elf, and bends down to start healing her.  
“The piece needs to be removed,” he responded gruffly, not about to be ordered around by some mage. The lyrium in his skin glowed as he channeled his own power.  
Solas has seen him to this before, but only destructively, the brute would probably remove some vital organs he argued. Hawke and Varric reassure him that she is safe with Fenris and he is the best chance they have for carefully retrieving it, and only then can she be effectively healed.  
Cole also interjected “He has no intention of harming her.” setting Solas at ease, if only for a moment as he is reminded of her mortal frailty and how close he is to losing her once again. However, he ultimately stands by as the tattooed elf reaches a hand inside her, before withdrawing, poisoned shard in hand. She cries out in agony, and watches his hand enter and withdraw from her torso. She grabs his arm and thanks him with her eyes before fainting. Solas went to work right away trying to knit back together the damaged flesh, but his work is hindered by the toxic poison coursing through her body. 

She is too unwell to travel, and they return instead to a nearby cave that they had found the day before, previously having been occupied and then abandoned by slavers, smugglers or some equally distasteful individuals or organization. They carry her on horseback to the nearby destination. Varric and Hawke agree to leave her with Solas, Fenris and Cole, as they ride back to the Inquisition to update the counsel on what was happening and request aid if it was still needed. 

She has fitful and feverish dreams, Solas mixes herbs and paultices to apply topically and rests to restore his mana between healing sessions, searching for her in the fade while Fenris stoically keeps watch. 

When he finally finds her, she is laying in a field of red flowers, surrounded by an assortment of animals: hares, halla, and other small woodland creatures. Her face is up towards the sun, taking in the blue sky dotted with fluffy white clouds. He approaches, stepping carefully as not to disturb the animals too much, but perhaps they can smell the predator on him, and they disperse as he gets close. He kneels at her side, and strokes her hair, drawing her attention. She seems blissful, maybe slightly intoxicated.  
"Solas!" She drawls, her head lulling towards him, a smile on her face. "How I have missed you!" She exclaimed the best she could in her relaxed tone.  
He continued to stroke her hair, "I have missed you as well Da'len, and it is time for you to come back now." he held back a tear and she already seemed to have one foot in and one foot out of the world of the living.  
"Have you seen my friends?" she beamed up at him, referring to the animals that accompanied her when he arrived.  
"I did," he answered affirmatively. Moving his arm to now grasp her hand instead, and it felt limp in his. It hurt him almost as much to see her like this, than it did to see her feverish on the floor of the dirty cave. 

When Solas and Fenris interact it is arguments that are only kept from developing into a fight to the death by the even keeled Cole. Solas blames Fenris for her injury, Fenris accuses him of sleeping all day instead of working harder to save her. Privately Fenris resents that she tried to save him at all, and hates that he feels so utterly helpless and dependent on a mage he despises to save her. He mulls over his own feelings about her, her kindness, and her self sacrifice and what, if any deeper meaning it held. She was so unique and though she didn't know it, he held their interactions close to his heart, she never made him feel pitied, and he appreciated that. He ached to have something more with her, but she was still so distant and unobtainable to him. 

After almost a week without much improvement, they are finally met with an inquisition battalion led by her commander Cullen. They transfer her to a soft bed in the back of a horse drawn carriage, and the elves accompany her back to Skyhold while they set up a base of operations in the desert. 

When they arrive, they are greeted by Morrigan and Vivianne, both adept healers in their own right, and when working in tandem with Solas finally bring her back, but she has much of the poison to clear out of her system still and is severely weakened. Solas and Fenris leave to their separate corners of the castle and do their best to avoid one another moving forward. Josephine orders strict bed rest for the Inquisitor, but after a week of extreme boredom, even with frequent friendly visits, she finally insists on working in whatever capacity she could and taking meetings in her quarters as there are a great many matters to attend to as more people flocked to Skyhold.


	7. Elves in Orlais

Eventually, it is brought to Astrid’s attention that tensions are rising in Orlais and that the Empress is having her throne threatened by her kin. Whispers from spies say there might be other risks to her as well, and it is their obligation as the Inquisition to attend a ball being thrown at the palace in a week's time, and they will stay for several days after to tend to various meetings and formalities. 

Astrid and Cullen both groaned at the prospect but Leliana and Josephine were both excited, well versed in the arts of the game and courtly intrigue. She is tasked with assembling a team to bring with them. There was of course her counsel, and herself, and additionally she decides that the people least likely to be made uncomfortable by such an event would be Dorian, Vivian, Cassandra, and maybe Hawke. Vivian would probably enjoy it too much, and might even join in the evil plots for the fun of it, and because she would of course bring Solas, that was entirely too many mages. Where Hawke went, Fenris went and tho she never brought her anywhere, infiltrating a palace full of elven servants seemed exactly up Seras alley, as she probably had some of her “people” there already. 

Astrid sees it as the opportunity to finally donne the dress that Vivian had custom made for her for her birthday, and it fit and looked exquisite, when they entered the palace grounds all eyes were on her, good and bad, as plenty of people had things to say about the organization being headed by an elf. Her team dispersed through the palace, Sera infiltrated the servants quarters, and Astrid has the daunting task of trying to impress these people she couldn’t stand, make a name for the Inquisition among the wealthy potential patrons and save the empress before the end of the night. 

She milled about the various rooms, accepting a drink from a servant and listened to conversations, made mental notes, investigated various leads and chatted with important figures, trying her hardest to engage in the verbal sword fight that was the game. Feeling a bit sultry she runs into a flustered Cullen who is left to fend for himself as he is swarmed by eligible bachelorettes, seeking to wed or bed the handsome commander of the Inquisition. She engages in some flirty banter emboldened by the alcohol and feeling confident in her dress that sparkled and was of the absolute latest fashions, showing up even many of the Orlesian ladies who were likely green with envy. 

Cassandra and Hawke are both hating the attention due to their high stations, the princess and champion of Kirkwall exchange eye rolls to one another across the hall in the front entryway. Many probably only know of him from Varric’s book, she giggled thinking to herself. 

She steals away into a secluded corner of the upper garden while slinking around, half to gather her thoughts, and half to spy on unsuspecting guests. She runs into Fenris who is also avoiding the party. His markings glow in the moonlight on his tanned skin stretched tight over well formed muscles exposed by his armor. He wasn't a part of the inquisition so he didn't need to be dressed as a representative as them. He was there as the champion’s companion, though he had already lent himself in the few scuffles they had encountered throughout the night. 

She bid him an awkward hello, she is feeling a little tipsy from celebrating their victory. He gives a report of general gossip. They discuss how he was treated as a sideshow attraction upon first arrival. She is sympathetic and touches his arm, he doesnt pull away and they make seemingly intense intimate eye contact before she is called away. He wants so badly to pull her close and kiss her, hold her in his arms, but he feels unworthy, especially here and now when she is in all of her finery. She is dressed in a beautiful gold and teal ball gown just as fine as any of the nobility in this place, it glitters in the flickering candle light. Her long pale blonde hair is done up in an ornate style mimicking the orlesan shape but incorporating uniquely elvish braids and pleats. It exposes her long and elegant neck, which is adorned with a simple necklace, showcasing a large stone that matches the blue green of her upturned eyes. He can smell the faint perfume she is wearing mixed with the sweet wine on her lips. It is intoxicating to him and his heart pounds in her presence. 

She blushes at being called back, excuses herself, and ventures back into the party to attend her Inquisitor social obligations. He continues to brood in the dark corner, considering how he pines for her. He tips back his glass draining the rest of the wine from his cup before deciding he will venture forth to get more. 

On her way back into the party, she is intercepted by a slightly intoxicated Solas, who grabs her by the elbow and starts leading her to the ballroom. She protests slightly, giggling, the normally stoic elf seeming very determined with a flash of something she does not recognize in his eye.   
“Dance with me!” He declares with a smile, not forming it as a question. The doors open and the room emanates beautiful music being played from the orchestra below. The bodies on the floor sway this way and that in time to the tune, swirling colors of dresses make for a dizzying yet beautiful scene. Several chandeliers hang from an ornately decorated and gilded ceiling reflecting down a warm light from above.   
He takes her hand now and they glide down the stairs, her cheeks are flushed with wine, and slight embarrassment, she has no experience with any sort of formal dancing and expects that the elven apostate is similar.   
He pulls her close, his strong, muscular form can be clearly felt under the inquisition uniform almost everyone on her team is wearing. He wraps his arm not holding her hand around her tiny waist, and begins to expertly lead her around the dance floor. He sways her this way and that along with the strings that swell and soar in an emotional song. As it picks up pace he spins her around the floor, twirling and dipping her, setting tongues wagging, jealous eyes watch from the balcony above. “Who was that elf with the Inquisitor?” “What a fantastic dancer he is.” Her ears picked up hushed tones and she blushed. 

For several songs they trace around the floor in dizzying circles, light of foot and like no one else existed, she looked up at him and saw a wholly new Solas, and it impressed her. He was strong and confident, taking this whole ball and game of courtly intrigue not only in stride but he actually seemed to be enjoying it. While she shied away from the attention, he seemed to bask in it, and make no mistake, everyone watched the elves below. Many others had cleared off the floor giving them more free range of movement because they were more interested in watching than participating themselves. The dancing and wine had her skin flushed and heart racing, he seemed like he could go on forever but in her tight corset she was feeling faint and short of breath, becoming a little light headed. “Air, I need some fresh air.” She finally panted out when the music paused between songs. 

“Of course!” Solas said, also a bit winded from their dancing. He bowed to her and the conclusion of their performance and applause was heard from above and her cheeks and ears reddened in a deep blush. She didn’t know that she would ever get used to being the center of attention like this. 

He gave her a confident smile and offered her his arm and she accepted it. He escorted her off the floor and back up the stairs almost possessively. She tried to avoid the looks of the people who they passed as she was feeling particularly bashful and wanted nothing more than to hide and regain her composure. They emerged from the party on to a private balcony, the crisp night air wicking away the sweat from her flushed skin and cooling her quickly. She leaned against the marble railing and inhaled deeply of the flowery scent of the roses below. In her dancing and wine induced haze, she began to reflect on the night's events, and what her decision might mean for not only Orlais but all of Thedas. 

She didn’t even hear him approach as she was lost in her thoughts, but felt the hand wrap around her narrow waist. His breath was hot on the back of her neck sending goosebumps over her skin, he spun her to face him, and her eyes caught his, they looked determined, dark with desire, and nothing like the elf she knew. He pressed his soft lips against her, testing for resistance, she was stiff at first, caught off guard and it came to her as so unexpected, but when she did not protest he deepened the kiss, pulling her into him and pressing his body into hers. She gripped his arms to steady herself and then melted into the kiss, her heart pounded and her head swirled. 

The door to the balcony opened, and a surprised “Oh, um, my apologies Inquisitor” came from her commander. He quickly exited the way he came, and startled, she broke from Solas’s embrace, and left the balcony to follow him. 

Solas felt somewhat offended at her abrupt abandonment but also accomplished. She yielded to him so easily, and he would have loved nothing more than to bend her over the railing and savagely ravish her there at the party.  
“What would Cullen say if he walked in on that?” He wondered with a rakish smile. She would be his soon enough, and if he knew anything about humans, their penchant for gossip meant that not only he had claimed her first, everyone was sure to find out about it, and it should keep other suitors at bay. 

At the conclusion of the evening, Astrid runs into the Empress’s Witch, Morrigan, after snooping around and gathering information on her all evening. They talk and Morrigan tells her that she is being sent to join them. During the exchange, she notices the wolf ring on Astrid’s hand.   
“Inquisitor, the ring on your hand is stunning, might I inspect it?” She said in her low and sultry voice.   
Astrid held out her hand to her, which she accepted in her gloved hand. “Absolutely fabulous, I have never seen another, ancient elvish, but in pristine condition, and a promise ring to the Dread Wolf Fen’Harel!”   
Morrigan's words shocked Astrid, “you can read it?! I couldn’t make out most of the runes,”   
Morrigan smiled, “Of course m’dear, I have studied ancient elvish history and magic for many years.” She flourished her hand as if it was some simple or common thing. She didn’t seem particularly old to Astrid, and something inside her resented that a shem possessed this knowledge, but she was also curious to know more.   
She turned Astrid's hand back and forth and over looking at the ring without taking it off. “Ah yes, I have seen one of these before, but it was to a different god. My understanding is that it was thought that one was given to an individual when an elven god has selected them as their mate, to bind them in a way…” she drawled before continuing, “Do youbelieve the stories that Fen’Harel banished the other gods and that he alone still walks Tamriel?” The corner of her mouth cracked into a smile at the implications. It seemed like a bit of a test of how superstitious this Dalish girl was.   
Astrid took her hand back and furrowed her brows, examining the ring. “Yes, that is one of the stories we Dalish are taught about the Dread Wolf.”   
“Well, curious enough isn’t it. Very pretty indeed. I will see you back at Skyhold.” She stated, changing the subject and ending the conversation. 

She was left standing alone, studying the ring with the glittering red eyes, feeling a bit dumbfounded. The ring may have explained the increase in her dreams featuring a large black wolf.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> F A D E S M U T

The next morning she feels a bit groggy but wakes in an ornately decorated room where most of the surfaces are gilded in the opulent Orlesian way. She pulled on one of the many dresses Josephine had custom ordered for her “everyday” wear while they were to attend meetings and other official Inquisition obligations.   
It was beautiful in its own right, though made of more simple fabrics that were not as eye catching as her dress from last night. Its neck was cut wide and deep exposing the tops of her shoulders and chest, and she tied her braided hair up and secured it, tucking in any stray hairs to give a more neat appearance before stepping into the hall outside the rooms they had been assigned in the eastern wing of the palace. 

She proceeded towards the main dining hall where breakfast was likely being still served if she had not slept too late, and frankly she was famished. There were a few giggles and whispers when she entered the room as her party were not the only ones who had traveled a great distance and who were also being hosted by the Empress for an extended stay. Her cheeks reddened involuntarily, something she always resented about herself was how easily her body betrayed her. Likely why she was never able to bluff her way out of a hand of Wicked Grace. 

She took a seat next to Cassandra, her nose deep in a book, who was startled at her sudden appearance. Cassandra is very forthright about relaying that word has gotten around about her and Solas’s kiss… she looks around and sees that he is absent, not particularly unusual for him, but the seat next to Hawke, normally occupied by Fenris was also. She shouted down the table and asked after his companion, and Hawke shrugged “He said he was heading back to Skyhold early.” and went back to eating. 

Her stomach dropped and she no longer had an appetite, a wave of nausea took her. She sat back in her chair, perplexed at her physiological reaction. Why was she so upset? She hardly knew him, he was of course a free agent and could do as he wished, and she could only assume the reasons why he would leave, he disliked people and pretentious places but such an unlimited selection of fine wines and a private room… surely he would have stayed for that. Did he find out about the kiss with Solas? And why would he care? Her head spun. She stood up, and excused herself to retire to her room and lay down. 

She could go after him, but for what? What if she was wrong? Besides, it would be totally inappropriate for the Inquisitor to abandon all the meetings and formalities scheduled for the next several days. She would just have to wait and hope that he would be receptive to speaking to her when she returned. 

She turned the handle and pushed open the heavy carved wooden door to her suite, kicked off her shoes and opened the door to the balcony letting in the morning sun and fresh breeze. She threw herself onto the soft bed and curled up feeling conflicted and unsure what to do or think. The kiss from Solas was a surprise, but not an unpleasant one, and it was her first kiss if she was totally honest. She thought it must have just been because he was intoxicated, as he was such a stoic and private man normally that she has never even considered him in that way before. And maybe if Fenris wasn’t around she would be content with pursuing the apostate, but she couldn’t deny how she felt around Fenris, this inexplicable pull and connection. An ache deep in her soul, and she wondered if he felt the same. 

She let her eyes lul closed from the brightness of the warm sun on her skin. She felt warm arms wrap around her and hold her tight, part of her brain thought it odd that she hadn’t heard the door open. “Mmm he must have actually stayed and been waiting for me” she thought happily in her warm sleepy haze. She ran her fingers along the arms that wrapped more tightly around her middle as he pulled himself close against her back. His hot breath against her neck as he started placing soft kisses on her exposed skin. She gave out a pleasured moan and writhed against him, losing herself in the moment and letting all her other thoughts and worries melt away. His erection pressed into the flesh of her round butt, straining against the fabric, and his hands now roaming over her body, teasing her, while nibbling on her ears causing her breath to catch, he started tugging at ties and loosening her clothes, while grinding his member against her. 

He slipped his hand between her thighs and teased her most sensitive part. She writhed and moaned. “Da’len” he whispered in her long pointed ear. Her eyes flew open and she spun around in shock, “Sol-“ he caught her mid word with his kiss, maneuvering himself on top of her, his tongue probing her mouth. He was topless save his wolf jaw necklace, wearing a pair of thin sleeping pants, his cock now pressing more directly against her. Her head was spinning, a mix of new and amazing sensations but also the shock of it not being Fenris as she had thought, he kissed his way down her neck towards her now exposed breasts. “Solas-“ she started, he moaned affirmatively. She placed her hands on his shoulders, momentarily admiring their broad strength covered in soft pale skin, before she came back to reality and gave him a shove. “Stop!” She finally got out, breathing heavily. He pulled back, perplexed at her sudden change in demeanor. He stayed kneeling between her legs, one hand went to rub his member through his pants.   
Her eyes took him all in, muscular, eyes dark with desire, and she felt her body mirror it as much as she tried to hold back, her eyes went to his hand and she bit her lip, feeling herself get wet with desire. “Yes Da’len?” He asked, breaking her concentration, her eyes met his and he looked very pleased with himself to get her in such a worked up state, her hair disheveled and face flushed, chest heaving. 

She now noticed more about the scene, they were no longer in the Orlesian suite, instead they were on a bed in a small clearing surrounded by dense forest. It wasn’t real, it was a dream. She sighed a huge relief and relaxed back into the bed. “I thought..” she trailed.   
“Mmhhhmm” he said and then bent down to kiss her gently, this time she reciprocated it more enthusiastically, feeling a bit intoxicated. He unlaced her dress and pulled it open exposing her chest, and bent to kiss her breasts, she stroked his ears, sending shivers down his body.   
“Where are we?” She asked, her eyes adjusting and staring out into the trees.  
“Some ancient forest,” he answered while switching to her other breast, she moaned as his tongue expertly worked around her erect nipple.   
He sat back and slipped her dress the rest of the way off leaving her in her smalls which were now soaked with arousal.   
“Who knows what nature of spirits you may attract if you are very loud” he warned with a devilish grin and then bent down to kiss his way down her stomach and the inside of her thighs. She wanted him so badly, but her brow furrowed.. “Spirits?.... this is… this is the fade!” She finally got out between gasps as he pulled aside her smalls and kissed her most sensitive part, she almost lost it then and there, her head spun at the intense new sensations. “Mmmhhmmm” he moaned. Her pleasure was building, “so this isn’t a dream?” It came out almost a whisper, not wanting it to be true. “Hmm mmm” he moaned a negative, his tongue expertly working around her sex, lost in the throws of extacy, her orgasm hit her, unable to stop it or hold off and at the mercy of his touch, it rocked her to the core, wave after wave as she grasped at the sheets of their forest bed. She panted, he removed his pants and resumed his position over her, kissing her softy, she could taste her sex on his lips. His cock bobbed and rubbed at the entrance of her sex slick with need. “Wait.” She pushed him back and panted out breathlessly. He held himself over her, his well muscled arms flexing, he slid his cock back and forth against her sensitive nub. “This means you will remember all of this.” Again her body and heart were at odds, she wanted him so badly and at the same time didn’t. He kissed her tenderly, “all of it” he answered.

Her cheeks burned, and she turned her head, hiding her shame. “I can’t” she said meekly, unable to even look at him. 

Solas wanted her too, more than he had wanted anyone in as long as he could remember, and he was so close to claiming her as his. He wanted nothing more than to seat himself deeply and lay his seed, he was a god and he deserved her, she should be honored. If she knew the truth she would give herself freely, even beg him for it. His cock bounced and leaked in excitement, he understood that she had put it in his hands, her body betrayed her, she wanted him but something was holding her back from giving herself to him fully. So weak and at his mercy right now in his domain, he could easily take her if he wanted to, and the wolf inside him surged at the thought. But no, he wanted her to want it completely. To need him. He rubbed his cock against her a few more times torturously, teasing her and to demonstrate that he was the one in control. She was still open for him, and drenched, it would be so easy to slip his thick length inside, even if she had never been with a man before. She watched him with big eyes, a conflicted look on her face. He flashed a devilish grin “so be it” he finally answered and sat back, pulling up his pants and tucking away his still hard member. 

She gave a whimper of disappointment when he pulled back, something he had not at all expected as she had refused him plainly enough, but he was indeed pleased by the noise. He looked at her naked form, flushed and panting on the bed, on full display, her sex almost dripping with arousal for him. He took her in hungrily with his eyes, and testing the waters bent down to kiss her again. She was receptive, and wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him in closer to deepen the kiss. He let his hands roam over her soft flesh and she wrapped her legs around his waist squeezing him tightly. She writhed under him, grinding against his cock through his pants, and he used a hand to free it again, letting it slide against the slick folds of her sex and hitting the sensitive ball of nerves causing her to moan. Frustrated with her mixed messages, he grabbed her firmly by the hair and pulled back from their kiss letting out a low growl from his chest, he turned her head to the side, nipped the lobe of her ear and dragged his teeth along the vulnerable flesh of her neck causing her breath to catch in her throat. “I will not be denied and then teased without release da’len” he whispered a warning into her ear. Her heart raced unsure of what game she was playing but very sure that he was ultimately in control and she was at her mercy. Still gripping her hair, he kissed her again more roughly now and thrust against her sex demonstrating how easily her could take her. It was everything he could do to hold back the wolf.   
He pulled back and knelt again between her open legs, with one hand he gripped his member and stroked it softly, and the other he ghosted over her sex before gliding a moistened finger over her most sensitive spot. The direct contact caused her to yelp and contort her body involuntarily, and he smiled to himself at how easily her body yielded to him. He rubbed the tip of his cock back and forth over her slit while stroking himself and stimulating her ball of nerves. She moaned and grasped at the sheets of the bed, rocking her hips to meet him. He pressed himself against her entrance only to watch her face wash over with a mix of desire and fear, and then he went back to teasing, thrusting into his hand and bobbing his cock against her, using her wetness to lubricate himself. Both the breathing was ragged as their pleasure built in unison, she grasped at his chest and shoulders digging her nails into the firm flesh trying to pull him in. He obliged her by bending down for a kiss but this was significantly more lewd, their tongues danced together, as what they felt was less sweet romance and more rough and primal need as they both chased their climax. Her head dropped back and she moaned and he littered her chest and neck with nips as he rutted forward wanting so badly to be inside her, he felt his own pleasure build and he sat back again, giving her attention with his one hand so that she would cum at the same time while still working his cock with his other hand, she started to tremble and shake as a powerful orgasm rocked her body. He followed, pumping rope after rope of hot white seed over her sex while he watched her watch him, she was panting, heart still racing and eyes dark with desire. When he finished, he slid the tip of his still hard cock over her slit mixing their fluids together, teasingly he pushed against her opening again and she went to close her legs and she propped herself up onto her elbows. He chuckled and withdrew, slipping his pants back on and tucking away his softening member he finally said “No need to worry da’len, your chastity is safe with me.” And flashed her a rakish grin before standing and vanishing into the trees leaving her naked and quivering on the bed, covered in his seed and feeling particularly vulnerable and alone. 

She wakes up on the Orlesian bed panting, still dressed and alone in her suite, her smalls very much soaked from her fade dream. The feel of him was so real, and the way he touched and worked her body so expertly, she had lost herself in the moment, and she felt mortified at her complete lack of control. When she thought it was a dream, she wanted him so badly and completely, but when she realized he would know her shame she felt a need to escape and hide. She was at his mercy, her body was his to do with as he pleased at that point regardless of what she thought or felt, he had total control over her. But at the same time she had wanted him, it was pleasurable and she enjoyed every moment of it. Even when he finished on her, where she should have felt degraded and used, she was instead aroused. Her cheeks flushed hotly and she covered her head with a pillow trying to hide in a room where she was alone. She didn't know how she would be able to face him again.


	9. More Questions Than Answers

Back at Skyhold things are different, she is saddened to find that Fenris has left and is not there with no word on when he may return. 

She did her best trying to avoid Solas while in Orlais after their tryst in the fade, but she often found her thoughts often wandering back to him. Every time she sees him he looks at her with a smolder or knowing smile, licks and bite his lips, or if she is in ear shot makes lewd innuendos. She is significantly more submissive and subdued in his presence, flushing and stuttering her words when she is near him and he relishes the effect he has on her. He thoroughly enjoys toying with and teasing her. 

One morning he enters the main hall during breakfast, and Varric bids him to join them. He declines with a nod of his head, and adds “They do not serve what I like to eat” and he wagged a brow at her, her cheeks burned with embarrassment. 

People started to notice that she was spending more time away from Solas after their public kiss, she was even seeing more of Cullen again, and spending lots of time with the now very pregnant Merril, but they did not make mention of the seeming absence of the elf. 

At one point, he catches her alone in an empty hall outside the rotunda on her way back from the library, and he presses her up against the cold wall, nudging a knee between her legs. She breathes heavily and he has her wrists pinned in his hand as he ghosts his breath over the exposed skin of her neck sending chills up her body. Her nipples harden and she writhes slightly testing the strength of his grip and he holds her firm.  
“I have missed you da’len.” He whispers in her ear before giving in a nibble.  
She whimpers, getting weak in the knees at his close proximity, his now hard member presses into her and her body responds. His smell only contributes to the effect, and she has a primal need to be consumed by him.  
He releases her wrists and kneads at her breasts, roughly exploring her as it is intended for his pleasure and not hers, but she enjoys it in spite of herself.  
Her free hand finds his member through his pants and he growls pressing into her harder, she responds by moving her head towards him for a kiss only to nip at his bottom lip. She tempts the wolf too much, and he flares, ready to strip her of her clothes and take her now, loudly enough for all of Skyhold to hear him make her his bitch. 

Their ears twitch as they hear footsteps coming down the stairs in their direction, and they break their embrace distancing themselves from one another, but both of them flushed, her lips swollen from rough kisses. The tranquil passed them without much acknowledgement. After the door to the great hall closes, he tips his head without looking at her, and whispers loud enough for her to hear, “If you will not come to me, then I look forward to seeing you in your dreams tonight.” It sounded like an ominous threat, but one she anticipated hotly. She was nervous, it was all she could think about since the first night in the fade, and she had touched herself countless times thinking about it, but there was still something so wrong and forbidden about it. She didn’t know if she should try to resist sleep, perhaps drink herself into a stupor at the Tavern so she wouldn’t dream at all or if she should embrace it and give herself to him. The effect he had on her body was undeniable, the pull she felt to him was still exclusively a physical and intellectual one. She still valued his guidance and knowledge and trusted him more than anyone to have her back in a fight, but now there was this added layer that complicated things. 

She woke up in the forest of her homeland, her bow on her back like she was stalking a deer for the hunt, swirly green smoke mingled between leaves that made it reminiscent of that first night with Solas. Was this the fade? She was never sure if she could trust dreams anymore. She became keenly aware that she was not the hunter and was instead the hunted, and she drew her bow, stringing an arrow and her ears twitched. She walked through the brush barefoot and almost silently. A whisp started to follow her and flicker about, she tried to bat it away. It flew behind her and she said good riddance, and took aim into the darkness, and a figure bent over her shoulder “Do you aim to kill him?” It asked, the voice almost ghostly. She dropped her arrow down and released the tension. 

“I aim to protect myself” she stated flatly, brows furrowing. “And I will kill whatever it is, or ‘him’ if necessary” 

The spirit smiled amused. “It is none other than Fen’harel who hunts you” 

“The dread wolf!?” She exclaimed. All the stories of the trickster god from her childhood came flooding back to her. It reminded her also of the 6 eyed wolf she had seen in so many of her dreams since joining the inquisition. It was him and she understood it to be true. 

“Mmhhmmm” the spirit hummed affirmatively, “I have not seen him so interested by something or someone in millenia” 

“Why does he hunt me spirit?” She looked up at the translucent form that circled around her. 

“He wants to possess you, you know that well enough, for you have something that is his.” It answered, and she looked down and the glowing green from her hand. That would explain it, the power of an ancient elven god would explain why it seems to rip apart the very boundary between heaven and earth. This is something Solas would know about and she made a mental note to ask him. 

“Why doesn’t he just cut off the hand and take it?!” She was now angry at being toyed with if the solution was so simple. 

“It doesn’t work that way,” and the astral body gave an almost shrug, “there may be something more to it as well..” it trailed with a smirk, “maybe he is ready for a queen?” And he indicated towards the ring on her hand. 

“Does he love me?” She asked the spirit, her voice shaking, she ran her fingers over the wolf ring.

“He will never love anything as much as he loves his people and torturing himself, but perhaps in his own way there is an affection there.” The spirit answered. “A ring like that is often given from a god to their chose one, it is rare and special indeed, but will always provide him a direct link to you.”

The large black wolf burst forth from the trees now stopping in front of the duo, interrupting their conversation. Astrid mustered her courage and faced him, fearlessly, though inside herself something trembled. His 6 red eyes bore into her soul, and it paced back and forth licking its chops. The spirit was effectively chased away, leaving the elf and the wolf alone. Her chest heaved with her breathing and he circled closer, smelling the air around her. She reached out and touched it’s thick black fur, she could sense how powerful and wild he was. He could easily kill her at any moment and she was at his mercy. Her heart pounded in her ears and it felt strangely familiar. She was face to face with one of the ancient gods of her people, in this place, in the fade. She ran her fingers through his fur, over his shoulder and down his back, and he stayed still, watching her intently. The connection at touching him was electric. 

She awoke with a start, alone in her bed, the late morning rays streaking through her windows. Astonished that she slept so late, she splashed some water on her face, dressed and ran down to the council room. 

After a long and arduous day of meetings, she is finally free to find Solas that evening, she considered asking Morrigan about the dream as well, but it seemed like Solas was more versed on speaking to the spirits in the fade, so Solas was her first choice. He was in his office, of course, but instead of having his nose in a book, he was working on the beautiful mural he began painting on the walls. She took the ring and slammed it on his desk making a loud noise that echoed up into the library drawing attention from a few above. 

“Solas” she addressed him as an equal, not as teacher, “I need answers.”  
“Mmmhhmmmm” he hummed, putting down his paints and brush and swiftly approached her, embracing her from behind, kissing her neck and fondling her breasts before slipping a hand down the front of her pants. “And what can I do for you Da’len?” He teased her most sensitive nub sending shockwaves through her and she steadied herself with her hands on the desk.  
“The ring… the fade… the spirit… Fen’Harel.” She choked out between breaths. He removed his hand from her pants and took a seat in his chair, motioning for her to join him. She did as she was told and took her place on his lap, he freed his cock from his breeches and placed her soft hand on it, indicating that she should stroke him.  
“Tell me of Fen’harel” she asked. She often asked him about his opinions on the old gods, since he studied them in the fade, but his curiosity was piqued.  
“Why do you ask?” He drawled, tracing kisses along her neck and shoulder.  
“He visits me in my dreams.” She said in a far off tone, thinking back on memories.  
At this, he pulled back and looked at her, a curious glint in his eyes.  
“The dread wolf? You must be special indeed to attract the attention of a god!” He teased and tickled her. She giggled and slapped his chest softly, to make him stop.  
“Tell me, da’len, what does the dreadwolf say to you, in your dreams?” He continued to plant kisses on her exposed skin and nibbled on her ear sending goose pimples over her flesh.  
Her brows knit together, and she nibbled her bottom lip, thoughtfully. “He doesn’t say anything to me… he just.. watches.”  
“Watches? What are you doing that is so fascinating?” He teased more, thoroughly enjoying talking about himself like this.  
She shrugged then, “Nothing special.” She pondered.  
He pulled back then, looking into her eyes again, and in an intense gaze, asked her “Do you fear him? When he appears to you?” And he searched her face while she answered.  
“I did, the first few times, I was terrified. I heard so many stories as a child, but, he never came for me. It seemed almost..” she hesitated, “protective.”  
His face softened into a smile. She was worthy, he had known but she confirmed it. She was not a terrified little girl who let stories influence her. She was worthy of him.  
“Hmmm” he hummed thoughtfully, pondering her statements in an exaggerated way. “You remember I told you that the vallaslin was the marking of slaves in service to the old gods in ancient times?  
She nodded her head affirmatively, hanging on his every word, still dutifully stroking his leaking cock.  
“Some say that Fen’Harel liberated his people from oppression by locking away the old gods in the fade, behind the veil.” He started and her face was stern in concentration as she pondered his words. “Only, in so doing so, he also severed his peoples connection to the fade, making them mortal, and bringing great suffering down on them.”  
She continued to think for a moment, the pieces perhaps falling together. “He couldn’t have known.” She said finally, surprising him, as she often did, with the wisdom and insight she showed. His heart swelled with love and affection, she understood him, even if she did not know everything.  
“The old gods were not true gods, like what you would think of today, but instead were powerful mages, like immortal magistrates of Tivinter.” He added, and then spoke more of a time long past.  
“So if they are simply protective dreams, tell me what has you so upset that you come in here returning my gift.” He cooed into her ear, part breathy moan.  
She ran her hand up and down the soft skin of his hard cock. She relayed the story and he played with her hair watching her intensely. When she got to the part of speaking to the spirit, he furrowed his brow disapprovingly. “The dread wolf let you touch him, you say?” He stopped her hand. “Da’len I will look into it for you as it sounds like a very curious dream indeed.” His hand went to her chin and his thumb tugged at her lower lip, and she opened her mouth, he slipped his thumb inside and she sucked it into her mouth and he furrowed his brow again and moaned. Grabbing her firmly by the hair he guided her off his lap and brought her face to his cock, now glistening with excitement. She looked up at him with big teal eyes and obediently sucked it into her mouth.  
“If it was the fade, which I am not convinced of,” he tilted and eyebrow, “then you must know that not all spirits are to be readily trusted, many gain enjoyment from scaring, terrorizing or otherwise playing with people as a form of entertainment.”  
She pulled back in protest “But-“ but he firmly brought her back all the way down, gagging her and holding it till her throat relaxed, tears ran down her face.  
“I have never heard of a god showing themselves to someone in the fade, nor in all my years of studying it.” A small smile curled at the edge of his mouth, “and for you to reach out and touch him! Well it seems utterly ridiculous if you don’t mind me saying so.”  
Her brows furrowed and she pouted, while still working up and down his shaft with her mouth, sucking and working her tongue, teasing his balls with her hand.  
“As for the ring,” he grabbed it off the desk, reclined back in his chair and gave out a breathy moan, examined it in the light and rolled it over in his fingers. “What the spirit told you sounds like some superstitious Dalish nonsense. I merely thought it was a pretty trinket, if you do not wish to keep it, I will take it back.” And he closed his palm around it, his face hard.  
She pulled back to protest again, and he grabbed her hair again, bringing his face close to hers “you will finish, or I will bend you over this desk and fuck you so hard that your loud cries will draw the attention of everyone in this tower above us, if not the entire castle.”  
He released her and reclined back as she dutifully and fervently sucked his cock, he watched her intensely making small noises here and there, occasionally stoking her face or hair tenderly, or wiping the tears off her cheeks from gagging. In moments like this he looked both pained and loving, like his walls came down and she saw a bit of tenderness and vulnerability. She felt bad for being superstitious and rejecting his gift. Finally he balls tightened and he released spurt after spurt of thick warm salty seed into her mouth and she swallowed it back, fighting her reflex to gag.

He pulled her back up into his lap, straightened her hair, and kissed her on the forehead. She looked a bit sad, he tipped her chin up so that their eyes met, “I said I would look into it da’len” and then he kissed her more passionately now, drawing her in closer to him. He reclined back into the chair, and still on his lap she rested her head on his chest and heard the thumping on his heart. He stroked her hair and it would have been a loving and tender moment if she loved him. 

She had more questions than answers. 

When she got up to leave, he held the ring out to her again.  
“Da’len, do you still want this?” The eyes glittered as her rolled it back and forth between his thumb and forefinger, “pretty trinket of your race's history, or betrothal to an ancient wolf god, you decide!” His eyes widened and then he laughed.  
She stood pensively, chewing her full bottom lip, in a deep contemplation till his laugh softened her, she smirked and tried to yank it from his hands, only to be pulled in for another kiss. He released her, and taking one of her hands, chose instead to place it on her finger himself again. Sealing it with a kiss in the same way as before. She blushed as it seemed almost ritualistic, or like it had more meaning to him than it being a simple trinket he gave to a friend or lover. 

Instead of letting her go, he pulled her back into his lap and slipped his hand back down the front of her pants, she was slick with arousal after servicing him, which pleased him greatly. He slid his lubricated fingers back and forth over her slit and teased her most sensitive part. She moaned and he caught it in a kiss pulling her against him as he continued to stroke and fondle her. 

They were interrupted by a loud bang of a door that led to Cullen’s office, the hour is late now, and his towering figure enters the rotunda where he finds them together. 

Solas is sitting in his chair at the desk in the middle of the room, the inquisitor seated in his lap, cuddled against him, his hand between her thighs. 

Cullen is first surprised, then angered. “Astrid-“ he started, before abruptly stopping, taking in the scene before him. His brows furrowed and he scowled. “What is this?” He asked accusingly. 

Startled, Astrid, leapt to her feet. “Cullen!”  
Controlled, Solas stands next to her, and puts his arm in front of her, stepping between them. “Is there something we can help you with, commander?” He spit out the words with formality, reminding him of his position. 

“I came to speak to the inquisitor” he responded through gritted teeth.  
Calm, and collected, like swordplay, Solas responded, taking a step forward. “So late? I cannot imagine what she would wish to discuss with you at such an hour.” Again, pointing out that Cullen was interrupting an intentionally private moment.  
He had taken her, Cullen’s temper flared. He reeled back his arm and struck Solas squarely in the mouth, causing him to stumble slightly. They were of similar height, but Cullen had significantly more mass, compared to the elves lean build. He thumbed the blood at his lip, and his eyes narrowed. The air around them hummed and snapped as the apostate's magic flared, the power was tangible, and he prepared to strike. But Cullen’s reaction was fast, as an experienced Templar he called on his years of training, and Silenced him. Still weak from his centuries of slumber, Solas choked out a breath and sputtered, at the immediate emptiness that was his building spell. 

“Stop!” Astrid screamed now, falling next to Solas in comfort and support. She turned her head at Cullen, and glared. “Leave us!” She commanded firmly, before returning her attention back to her lover. The door could be heard slamming once again and they were left alone. She touched his lip tenderly, and he winced slightly at the pain, then looked back at her. She had chosen him, she was his. Her eyes were full of concern, and he held his hand up to his mouth, conjuring a quick healing spell and knitting the skin back together. Then he pulled her into him, for a passionate kiss, tasting the copper of his blood against her lips.

As she stands to leave finally, he calls after her, instructing her not to lock her door to him and that he will come visit her. He thoroughly enjoys using the head of the most powerful organization, the inquisition, as his cum dump. And he considers being bonded to her, letting her in on his plan, and taking her and the power of his orb to be at his side while he puts the world right. 


	10. May The Dread Wolf Take You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I am in to the fan art I have seen people make of young Solas with long black hair.

Astrid climbed the many stairs to her room. Throwing open the balcony doors to her suite, she let in a cool mountain breeze. The stars were bright and twinkling in the moonless sky. She finally laid down on her bed and stared at the ceiling, lost in deep thought.

She fingered the ring on her hand, superstitions had to come from some place, for their traditions and stories to be passed down had to mean something, and the fade FELT so REAL, I mean, as real as the fade visited in a dream can feel. She thought of the fade encounters with Solas and blushed, those felt VERY real. And he felt them too? So didn’t that make it real? Cole was real, and he was a benevolent spirit, that seemed similar enough to the spirit she had spoken to, but she was also inexperienced so would she really be able to tell if a spirit had been lying to her? It’s words sounded close enough to what Morrigan had said about it, but Morrigan spoke as if she was reciting a myth or tradition like “that’s what they believed” but who was to say it wasn’t just symbolic, or figurative and not literal? And why would she trust a shem over her very close friend Solas who had never steered her wrong or lied to her as far as she knew.  
Her mind kept coming back to the way the beast's red eyes seemed to penetrate to her soul. Elven gods were generally represented by avatars that were not their physical form all the time, so wouldn’t that mean that Fen’Harel would have an immortal Elven form? She wondered if he was handsome and why he had not shown his normal form to her. She pouted and then laughed at herself, she must be tired if she was contemplating becoming an elven god’s mate, and how attractive he was. Thank the gods no one was around to listen to her embarrass herself.  
Solas was attractive, her mind drifted, he was smart, and so sweet to her sometimes, and the way he kissed her hand after placing the ring on it felt like it might be something more. Maybe that was why he still respected her chastity, to an extent, she rolled her eyes, because he respected the bond it created, and maybe he didn’t want to bond with her, or wanted it to be more meaningful? Could she love him? Could he love her? Did he love her? She started daydreaming about a future with Solas, raising children to hold true to their culture and traditions. Her lids got heavy. 

Just in case it did make for a direct line to an ancient god, she wiggled the ring off her finger and placed it on the table next to her bed, before rolling over, pulling the covers up to her neck, and drifting off to sleep. It was the most restful sleep she had in awhile. 

He comes to her at night and the door is locked, his magic flares and the lock is broken. He pushes the door open and it lets out a low groan. The room is illuminated by candles however the inquisitor is nowhere to be seen, but a soft splashing can be heard nearby. He follows his ears to a side room where she is submerged in a large copper tub of steaming water. The ornate details etched into the rim and exterior of the tub match the motifs seen around the ancient castle. He moved silently in the shadows approaching her. He disrobed and joined her in the tub opposite. His hand flourishes and heat emanates warming the water. She is startled at the movement of the water, her eyes flying open and a look of shock at her face as she takes in Solas’ nude form, for being a mage every muscle was well defined and rippled under pale skin as he moved effortlessly into the tub. She blushed and averted her eyes, covering herself and trying to maintain some modesty after catching herself roaming over his body with her eyes only to see him catch her doing so, and his expression was one of smug self satisfaction. 

“Good Evening Da’len” he cooed at her, reaching across and removing her hand that was covering her breasts, and while holding it pulled her into his lap and wrapped his arms around her. She lays back against his chest and rests her head against his shoulder and white blonde hair floats in the water around them like a mess of flames. He pulls the hand that wears his ring to his lips and kisses it. He kisses her temple, and runs his hands over her flesh, before reaching over the side for a handful of scrubbing salts, which he wets and works into a lather before applying to her hair. He massages and works it into her hair, her eyes closed, she moans her approval.  
“How are you?” He asks finally.  
She blinks, brows furrowed, not sure really how to respond. “Overwhelmed?” she answered. The weight of the world was too much for her narrow shoulders, between politics and interdynamics of heading the Inquisition to getting out and fighting in this war against a wanna-be god Corypheus and unending demons falling from the sky to questions of her heart.  
He reaches for more salts, now scrubbing them into her arms and chest, and everywhere his hands can reach.  
“What do you want?” He asked in response, ever patient and supportive.  
“I have no idea.” she sounded defeated. “None of my options seem like the path to happiness, knowing I have so many people depending on me, and so many people end up hurt or dying if I make the wrong choice. I always feel like I might circle back to what could have been. I just want to run away.” She was brutally honest, not having been able to really discuss or share the burden until now.  
If he was phased by her statements, he didn’t let on.  
“So what do you plan on doing now?” He asked, continuing their conversation as he rinsed her skin and hair free of suds. Having his hands on her felt so comfortable, and she knew she was safe in his arms.  
She shrugged her shoulders. “Kill Corypheus? Hope that is the end of it, leave the Inquisition and try to find my clan and live out the rest of my life?”  
“You know there will always be one more thing after he is gone.” Solas stated flatly, he had been around long enough to know that organizations as large as this did not just step down and give back all the power they had seized during a time of need.  
She turned finally to face him, her hair slicked down to her head, and her breasts pressed into his chest and his erection pressed into her belly and she laid over him in the bath.  
“But they can’t keep me here right? They can make another Inquisitor, I can run away.” She pleaded naively.  
He tucked wet hair behind her ear, and stared at her with those stormy grey eyes.  
He reached for the soft curve of her bottom with his hands and pulled her towards him, so that she was straddling him now, and she could feel his hard length between them.  
He kissed her, deeply, his fingertips digging into her flesh where he gripped her tightly. His kiss moved to her neck, and he nibbled on her ear, his hands began to roam over her body, cupping her breasts and teasing her sensitive nubs. She gasped, at the feeling of his touch on her skin. Her hands circled his neck and she ran her fingers over his sensitive ears as he tilted his head forwards and moved his mouth to her breast. His hands moved back to her bottom, and now glided her over his hard length. She moaned at the sensation against her sex. Her head fell against his forehead, her breathing already ragged.  
“Don’t tease me,” she begged.  
He smiled and kissed her again.  
Wrapping one arm around her waist, he stood up, lifting her to her feet, again showing impressive strength for his lean build. He picked up a thick cloth from the ground and wrapped her in it, and they stepped out of the bath, he rustled it in her hair, absorbing much of the water.  
When she was mostly dry, he swiped the cloth over himself.  
She looked at him with big teal eyes, watching his muscles twitch and ripple in his chest and arms as he dried himself off.  
He looked at her, his eyes dark now with desire, he bent and sweeping her off her feet picked her up and carried her to the bed, laying her down on the delicately embroidered silken bedspread which only reminded him of her high station in this now large and powerful organization.  
He joins her on the bed hovering over her lithe form, she sat up to meet him in an eager kiss already so aroused from their foreplay in the tub. He teases her sex with his cock again, and she tenses at the thought that he may try and fuck her. The wolf flares, wanting to press himself deeply, but Solas maintains control. His lips ghosted over her collar bone, his breath warm on her sensitive skin, leaving kisses as he trailed down her body.  
She writhed under him, his every motion seemingly so calculated, in knowing every response it would elicit. He littered kisses on her breasts, down to her hips and finally he reaches her sex, swinging her legs over his shoulders, she blushed at his close examination of her. His breath ghosted over her wanting sex, and she moaned in frustration and impatience. With one hand, he pinched the sensitive flesh of her breast, drawing her to catch his eye. He cocked an eyebrow as he dipped his head to her hairless sex due to her elven blood, and glided his tongue expertly over the sensitive folds. Teasing his way around, before finding her sensitive ball of nerves and sucking it into his mouth. Her hands fly to her mouth as she tries to muffle her moans and cries, eventually grabbing a nearby pillow and yelling into it as she climaxes, wave after wave her body shook till she was limp, panting, and exhausted. He softly continued, letting her recover, before starting to tongue fuck her entrance and bringing her to another orgasm, this time she almost started crying, and he finally came up and rejoined her, kissing her deeply as she held him tight and sobbed into his shoulder. He held her tenderly till her second orgasm subsided and he was hard and ready for his own release.  
He brought his face to hers and pulled her into a deep kiss, before pressing his forehead against hers and whispering “I want you to taste me” her big teal eyes met his grey ones now almost black with desire. He stood up next to the bed, his glorious form on display, his erection at her face height, she brought her head forward, and sticking out her tongue almost comically licked the tip where a clear bead had formed. It did not taste unpleasant as before, and this time she did not need to service him quietly to hide from prying eyes like she had before. She proceeded to lick up the length of his shaft and then sucked the tip into her mouth, rolling her tongue around as she did so. His breath caught and she looked at him, his cool facade melted away and now he watched her intensely. His hand stroked her head and entwined her hair that was loose and wildly around her, tightening his grip. Emboldened by the reaction she gave him, she repeated the movements now faster, taking him deeper and sucking harder. He moaned, following her motions with his hand on her head, his breathing getting deeper and faster. He moves her hand onto his balls, which she strokes and massages softly while still working his head and shaft with her mouth. She frequently looks up to watch him watch her, his expression looking almost pained, and also almost loving, and it confused her. His balls tighten, and he grabs her head more forcefully, bringing her all the way down his cock, and she gags on the length as it slides into her throat, she struggles to pull back but he holds her firmly and her throat relaxes. He releases her and she catches her breath and he repeats the process, forcing himself to the back of her throat, thrusting a few times and then holding it before releasing her to breathe. Each time her gag reflex lessened as she learned how to control it. After a few times he was able to freely fuck her face mouth and throat. His head fell back and he moaned gutterally, panting, till his balls tightened and he pushed all the way into his throat, her eyes teared and she gagged, and his cock pulsed as he pumped spurt after spurt of cum down her throat. And then withdrawing his softening cock from her mouth, he collapsed on her bed.

She knelt, unmoving, still unsure what to do or how to feel at this new experience, and also about her place as his lover, it wasn’t something she had expected or even wanted at first, but his effect on her body and the pull she felt towards him now was undeniable. Besides, she hadn’t seen Fenris in what felt like ages as he and Hawke left for an extended mission for the Inquisition and she had no idea when he would return. She couldn’t have imagined that he even had feelings for her back, and it was probably just a girlish crush anyway. Solas propped himself up on his elbows and she was still perched on her knees, clearly lost in thought. He grabbed her hand, snapping her out of it, and pulled her to his chest and laid back in the ornately decorated bed.  
He laid next to her, one arm draped around her, and she cuddled into his chest. Her hands traced circles over his heart, his strong chest was smooth and hairless. His heart beat like a drum that she felt mirrored in her own. She nuzzled into him, his scent filling her nose and relaxing her. This was real, this was now. Solas was attractive, honorable, and his effect on her was undeniable. She was his and had been since their first encounter in the fade, and she was done fighting it, and instead resigned herself to embrace it. Fenris was a drunk, a clearly broken man, with a long and dark, sordid past that haunted him and she wasn’t even sure that he cared for her at all since their interactions had yet been so limited.  
Solas stroked her hair as she lay against him, their nude forms pressed against one another in the dwindling candle light, yet he knew her mind was still elsewhere, which irritated him.  
“Da’len, what is going on in your pretty little head?” His fingers twirled in her now dry ashen hair. She shrugged and buried her head in his arm shyly. “Hmm? Some girlish fantasy perhaps?” He brought his head towards one long pointed ear and whispered “perhaps you are thinking about when I will finally take you, lay my seed deep in your womb, and watch your belly swell with my child.” She was startled by his words being more than just graphic, she turned to face him, wide teal eyes searching him for answers. He chuckled and kissed her, “not to worry Da’len, your chastity is safe with me… for now.” Her eyes dropped and she rested her head back on his chest. Why did his words hurt her? Isn’t that what she wanted? “Please, don’t.” is what she has said to him every time he got near and teased her, but it was a question, pleading, because she was his to do with as he pleased, and he knew it.  
So why would she be sad now? She thought, perplexed for a while, till the answer came to her. It hurt because even though he was hard to read it seemed clear to her that he did not love her, and searching her soul, she felt unsure of her feelings for him in return. As good as he made her feel, as much as she wanted to believe the ring had more meaning, and as good as it felt to be wrapped up in strong arms, they were not the arms of someone she loved, and so it was empty. She felt like she was betraying that person, that future love, her chastity was no longer intact even though they had danced around the line. Because they had danced around the line. She guessed she was broken and damaged now too. She closed her eyes tightly and prayed for sleep to take her. He disentagled himself from her when was clearly asleep, dressed and left as he planed to join her in the fade again. He suspected that she had been harder to reach in the fade lately because perhaps she had been taking off the ring though he has no evidence of it. He closes the door to her quarters carefully, the latch barely audible before he glides down the stairs towards the rotunda. 

She awakes in her clan forest, but instead of armed with her bow and wearing her normal hunting leathers, she had a single dagger and a flowing dress that was a style she was unfamiliar with, it was braided and twisted at the shoulders and under her bust, and then a glistening and reflective metallic fabric that was slightly sheer and glittered in the light. 

They hunt together. He brings down the halla in wolf form, it's alive and heart is racing as it looks at her out of the corner of its eye, injured and knowing its death is coming. 

She kills the halla quickly, slicing its neck so it bleeds out and then cuts open the chest, removing the heart and offers it to the wolf, who watches her intensely, before taking it from her. 

It was symbolic, she made the sacrifice of the other gods and committed herself to him. 

“Why do you only come to me in this form?" she asked, continuing more specifically. "Why would you not know me as a man?” His 6 red eyes stared at her and he tilted his head, as if thinking about the answer to her query. He stood up then and dashed away through the underbrush, disappearing into the forest. She shouted after him, “Wait!” And rose off the ground to follow him, the halla at her feet. Dried blood covered her hands and stained the light colored dress. 

As she did so, she was approached quickly from behind, a soft silk was draped over her eyes, blacking out the light and secured behind her head, she stood, motionless, and a voice whispered in her ear “I have missed you vehnan.” His breath tickled her skin, creating goose pimples on her exposed flesh. Her heart pounded, he sounded almost familiar but she couldn’t place it. He took her hand that wore the ring and brought it to his soft lips, placing a kiss on it and she turned to face him, as best as she could with the blindfold on. She trembled, in the presence of an ancient god, unsure of how to conduct herself, or of what he wanted from her. 

He holds her hands, steadying her, and she releases them from his grip, running them up his strong arms, over his muscular and defined chest which is hot to the touch and hairless but beat like any living man and it rose and fell with his breathing. Her hand timidly traced up his neck to his face, his jaw was square and angular, yet smooth to the touch, her fingers touched the tip of his nose and up and around his brows, she traced his sensitive ears all the way to the long pointed tips, causing his breath to catch, “Definitely not a shem,“ she thought to herself. She ran her hands through his long straight hair, before withdrawing. Lastly, she rose her fingers to his lips, soft and full, slightly round and when she took her hand away, he leaned in and brushed them softly against hers, testing if she was receptive. 

She reached her arms up to his neck and pulled him closer to deepen the kiss, and he wrapped his arms around her body, picked her up and spun her around so that she was dizzy. Finally laying her on a bed, he positions himself over her and kissing her again. He pulled the straps down from her dress and the cool air licked at the sensitive buds on her breasts, and then dragged his teeth along the skin of her exposed throat sending a shiver down her spine. Her own hands traced lines over his broad back and twirled in his hair.  
He whispers in her ear again, "What is the old Dalish saying?" before giving it a nibble, and pulling up the bottom of her dress around her hips as his hands roam over her body.  
"May the dread wolf take you..." she answers meekly, her heart racing.  
She could hear the smile in his response. "And are you ready to be taken vehnan?"  
Her skin prickled, she wasn't wearing anything other than the dress and she could feel his length pressing against her. Feeling every bit like the caught halla, at the mercy of the wolf, her heart raced and her head swirled. She nodded finally, and he thrust forward with a growl, tearing into her, and she woke up with a start crying out into her empty room. 

The morning light just started to peak over the tips of the mountains, she fell back onto her pillows, panting and sweating, she slipped her hands into her smalls, and she was wet with arousal, but her maidenhead was still intact, and she released a great sigh of relief. It was just a dream, an intense fade dream about giving herself up to an ancient god who called her his heart. 

How she wished she could talk to Merril about it, but Fen’Harel was so feared and hated by the Dalish for being a trickster god, her superstition would make her disapproval immense, she would accuse her of playing with fire for wearing the ring at all after what Morrigan had said and the spirit confirmed, and now that Fen’Harel had confirmed himself. She fingered the ring, it complicated her already complicated life. All she needed while trying to save the world from demons pouring forth from the sky was an ancient elven god playing with her emotions. 

Solas woke up, his erection aching and begging for release. He touched himself out of utility, fantasizing about going to her room now and making their fade experience a reality, but he had already exposed plenty to her, and it was too early yet to reveal everything completely. He spent and laid back panting and sweating. 

She had passed every test set forth to her, she was loyal to her people, hated this modern world, their oppression, and had worn the ring even when it’s true meaning was revealed to her. She sacrificed the halla, a sacred beast to her people, and offered it up as tribute to him. She did not fear the wolf and she finally consented to being bonded to him, which meant that if she did not love him, she knew she could or would eventually. Of course she didn’t know that it was him she was giving herself to, but that was unimportant to Solas, the truth would be revealed in time. She had proven herself loyal and worthy of being at his side, he had given her his heart and it was just a matter of time till he had hers in return.


	11. The Wolf Takes His Queen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taadaaa it's ya boi.

The ornate doors creak open before her, she is illuminated by the light within and the air fills with the sounds of laughter and music. She steps forward, delicate shoes tapping on the polished stone floor, her floor length gown glitters in the flickering candlelight like it is woven of threads of metal and precious stones. It drapes over her petite figure perfectly, hugging her curves it is cut deep to expose her neck and decolletage, it sweeps softly at her ankles, her hair is plaited into loose, thick, ornate braids that intertwine into a beautiful style, it is complemented by the simple mask she is wearing over her eyes meant to represent a halla. She is greeted by a tall elf dressed in black wearing a vallaslin she does not recognize but appears to be the shape of a wolf perhaps. He hands her a drink in a clear vessel, it bubbles. She brings it to her lips and it tastes sweet, with a dry finish, and the effervescence tickles her palette. The alcohol she barely noticed sends a flush over the exposed skin of her chest and the tips of her ears. She hands back the empty glass and proceeds further inside. 

She notices many glances as she looks around the palace, hushed whispers, murmurs and laughs are obfuscated by the orchestra playing an emotional waltz, around the edges of the room people gather talking and drinking, and in the center bodies whirl together in time to the music. She recognizes none of the faces, and some of the words she catches but the elvish seems so ancient she hardly knows them. She notices details of the palace, beautifully hand crafted and carved wood details trim all doors and entryways, scrolling designs that complement the massive woven tapestries that adorn the walls depicting nature scenes and forest animals. Part of her feels so alone and out of place even in a palace full of her kin, but instead of turning and leaving, the beauty and her curiosity draws her in, perhaps also emboldened by the drink. She weaves her way through the crowd, her senses tantalize by the sights, sounds and even smells surrounding her.   
Her heart swells with the strings and the music moves with the beat of her heart, and though she has never heard it before, the sound speaks to her soul in a way she cannot describe. Her head swoons, and a man steps forward, he has firey red hair, a crooked smile and wears the mask of a fox. He offers his hand requesting a dance and she accepts it, he escorts her to the ballroom floor and he leads her around, they sway in step to the music. When the music stops, another man, this time a blonde, wearing the mask of a hare, cuts in and takes her hand, the next song is faster and he twirls her around till she is light headed and almost dizzy. She catches glances of the faces around her in the room, the lights and sounds blurring together as she loses herself in the moment. She catches a few times out of the corner of her eye a dark figure, but when she turns to see him again, he is gone, only to be seen again somewhere else. Her brows furrowed in confusion, and suddenly they pause mid song, the blonde man she was dancing with is stopped by the dark figure and he stepped back, bowing slightly and leaving her with the man. Her breath caught in her throat, and her heart pounded, and the music subsided, the whispers became deafening as she realized all eyes were on the two of them. He was tall, fair skinned and with long black hair, dressed all in black, his shirt open to expose a strong, defined chest, a fur adorned his shoulders and we wore the mask of a wolf. 

He held out his hand to her, and she placed hers in his, and he lifted it to his mouth placing a soft kiss on the back. She blushed, her heart still pounded. The music started again, this time a slower, emotional and powerful song played, he guided her around the floor expertly, his strong arms leading her this way and that, the floor seemed more empty now as people appeared to be more interested in watching them and gossiping than they did dancing themselves. She no longer paid attention as their surroundings melted away and to her there was now only him and the music, their bodies moving together as one, her heart pounding, her head spinning, his smell was intoxicating, and it felt so familiar and right in his arms. Her big teal eyes stared up at his masked face trying to figure it out, studying his lips, and thinking indecent thoughts.   
He looked down at her, catching her staring and smiled knowingly. She blushed again and looked away, hiding her face. He tipped his head down to her, and his breath tickled her ear “vehnan” he whispered, softly and it was familiar, her heart leapt, and she almost went limp in his arms but he carried her through the final movements till the song finished. 

He led her off the floor and up some stairs by the hand, the crowd parted for them. Her head was spinning and she was so confused, but she followed him. Finally they reached their destination at the top of the stairs in the back of the room overlooking everything sat 2 chairs, correction, thrones. One of a dark, almost black wood, expertly carved like everything else in the palace, this was adorned with wolves in various positions. The second was also beautifully carved but lacked any significant animal theme, and was of a lighter wood. He sat in the black throne and gestured she should join him in the other, she blushed and did as she was asked, already used to being a spectacle in this place, he took her hand in his and placed a kiss on her knuckles, dragging his lips softly only the skin and it sent goose pimples over her flesh. Holding her hand in his still, he withdrew something from his pocket, a ring, and slid it onto her finger of the hand he held. Her heart pounded, it was a gold wolf ring with 6 glittering red eyes, she knew this ring. She looked around the room, all masked faces except the servants, who wore the valleslean, “slave markings” she thought to herself. She was speechless but she had also not said anything since arriving heaven forbid her dalish give her away since her elvish was likely not good enough to pass herself off as one of them. 

Head still spinning, heart pounding, and now all these new simultaneous revelations, she stood removing her mask and almost lost her balance, in a blink of an eye he was up next to her, steading her with a strong arm. She looked at him again, her emotions swirling, she took advantage of their closeness and pushed his mask back as well, fed up with these games, and it was the devilish grin of Solas smiling back at her, he pulled her close then and pressed his lips to hers kissing her deeply and she went limp in his arms. What sort of insane dream was this? She fainted and everything went black. 

She came to, in a large bed, but not hers, she was still dreaming, or in the fade, or whatever this was. It had 4 corner posts reaching high towards the gilded ceiling. The craftsmanship of everything in the room was superb, made by true artisans. The tapestry in this room showcased animals she had never seen, horses with single spiraling horns and other ancient or extinct or imaginary creatures. On the table next to the bed was a pitcher of water and some glasses, as well as a platter of fruits and cheeses. She poured herself a glass and drank deeply, before nibbling a couple bites to calm her nervous stomach. She was having such an impossible time figuring out what reality was anymore, and thinking about it hurt her head. She walked over to a window, her shoes gently tapping on the stone floor, she was high up now, in a tower of sorts overlooking a vast and endless forest surrounded by mountains at the furthest most reaches. 

The door behind her creaked open, held by a servant as a now shirtless and maskless and furless Solas? Ancestor of Solas? Fen’Harel? Walked in. The music from the party could still be heard faintly below. 

A grin flashed across his face as he saw her.   
“Ah, vehnan, you had me worried.” He rushed to her and took both of her hands in his and kissed them before looking deeply into her eyes. He placed her hands on his chest and she felt the pounding of his heart, she felt it mirrored and her heart swelled at the sight of him. Her finger still wore the ring, the ring that she was so sure she had taken off before going to sleep as she did every night. Her body betrayed her and she flushed, her teal eyes meeting his stormy grey ones. His long black hair draped over his broad muscular shoulders.   
“Sola-“ she started to ask and he caught her lips in his, and pulled her in tightly to the warmth of his chest, she tried to resist at first, but then melted into him. He felt so good, so right, the dread wolf who haunted her dreams, now she was here and she was his. Her hands traveled up his chest to his neck and she tugged his ears slightly and deepened their kiss. He responded in turn, his body pressed against hers, hands now roaming over her body, peeling off the dress that has seemed made for her.

All thoughts of the servant outside the door vanished and she lost herself in him, in his touch, in his kiss, in his smell. Dream, fade, apostate, god, whatever. She did love him and she wanted him more than anything. Her dress pooled at the floor around her feet and he lifted her towards him effortlessly, and she wrapped her legs around his waist. He carried her over to the bed and laid her down crawling on top of her, his erection straining against his pants and pressing into her, begging to be freed. She was wet with her own desire as well. He kissed her, and slipped the shoes from her feet, tossing them to the floor. Then working his way down her body, he kissed her breasts sucking a nub into his mouth, he hooked his fingers around the straps of her smalls sliding them down her legs, she grasped at him through his pants, and pouted as he moved lower and out of her reach. “Hrmph!” She let out in protest, and he caught her face and laughed, “Patience vehnan…” and he kissed the bones of her hips. 

“No,” she writhed in frustration, “No, I need you.” She clawed at his shoulders trying to pull him back up to her. He grinned big and obliged her, pressing his body into her, his cock teasing her through his pants up against her sex, but he took both her hands in his, removing her ability to touch him or facilitate anything more. “Mmmm” he growled “impatient are we?” And he nibbled her pointed ear sending shivers down her spine. He ground against her and she panted “Please… please.” He growled again hearing her beg him for it was almost too much, he released her hands and pulled himself free of the pants and kicking them down off his legs, he rubbed the soft yet hard flesh of his cock against her sex and she gasped bucked against him each time he slid over her most sensitive spot.   
He positioned himself at her entrance, and was gravely serious for a moment, “Do you love me?” He asked her, she panted, her heart swelled and she knew the answer, she nodded almost pathetically, so absolutely at his mercy, “Yes, yes, I love you, yes.” And he kissed her deeply and thrust forward, she yelled out at the pain and he swallowed it, and held still for a moment while she adjusted to the new sensation of having him inside her. They kissed and she relaxed and then he proceeded to move in and out of her, very slowly at first, she was so overwhelmed by the feeling of every inch entering her, the fullness. Soon she started riding him back and meeting his every thrust to deepen the penetration and he picked up his pace. “Vehnan” he moaned as he fucked her, their bodies becoming one, hearts beating in time, climaxes building. He had waited too long to be able to control himself any longer, there was no taking his time and cherishing the moment. Only the primal need they both felt to finally unite as one. There was nothing else in the world in this moment, they were the only people in space and time, and she was his, and he was hers. The motion finally caused her to hitch her breath, tighten, and wave after wave of her orgasm hit her like a waterfall, she spasmed and tightened gripping his cock, sending him into his own during the tail end of hers, he jack hammered into her before stopping and pulsing spurt after spurt of his seed deep into her. 

He collapsed on top of her without withdrawing, and their sweaty forms held each other. She ran her fingers through his hair, her nails tickling his scalp. 

“Who are you?” She asked finally. He rolled off of her and onto the bed next to her, propping himself on an elbow.  
“You say you love me but don’t know who I am?” His brows knit together.   
“I know you are the dread wolf, Fen’Harel” she said now tracing the lines of his face, “and I know you as Solas, the apostate mage.” She studied him, her finger now touching the fullness of his bottom lip. “But I don’t feel like that gives me hardly any answers at all, what is this place? How am I here? Why do you cut your hair?” Her questions becoming more nonsensical.   
He smiled, reassured, “it was something I did in my youth, I feel shaving it makes me look more distinguished, do you not agree?” He bent down and kissed her, she melted into it, and yawned, content with that answer for now. Her lids were heavy, she snuggled up to his chest, and let sleep take her. 

She woke up the next morning in her own bed in skyhold. She was wearing the ring, “Ah that's why the dreams again.” she felt a little relief and a little sad. “I am really getting quite the imagination.” she thought to herself. She was particularly sticky between her legs this AM from such lewd thoughts, she slipped into the tub to wash up before starting her day.


	12. The Wolf Claims What is His

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> IRL Sex > Fade Sex

She gathered with everyone at the tail end of breakfast, and scarfed down her eggs feeling a little hung over. She caught sight of Solas leaving the rotunda and her heart leapt and her stomach did flip flops, Varric seemed to notice her glance and made a comment that made her blush. Solas didn’t look her way or acknowledge the group. She kicked herself, “Solas the wolf god indeed, QUITE the active imagination.” She pouted into her coffee now disinterested in finishing it, feeling particularly heart broken and trying to hold back tears in front of her friends. 

She only has a few things to take care of over the course of the day, working on a new set of armor, grooming her hart, and she often wanders around hoping that will casually run into him but he doesn’t seem to be in any of his normal places. Her brows knit together in frustration feeling defeated and she worries that he is avoiding her. 

Finally that evening, on returning from having a chat with Dorian who she was growing increasingly fond of, she ran into him again in the hall outside the rotunda on her way back from the library. 

“Oh, hi.” she said awkwardly. Even after rehearsing what she might say to him in her head all day, all words failed her once in his presence again. Her heart ached and nervously she avoided eye contact.  
He studied her closely through narrowed eyes before returning, “Hi.” in a flat, almost mocking tone.  
She tried to shrug it off and act casual, commenting about the weather, but failing at small talk. Flustered, she finally adds, “Sorry, I just had the weirdest dream last night and you were in it.” her eyes still directed at the floor, chest hurting and a bit embarrassed at her total lack of composure.  
“Dream?” He cocked an eyebrow, “And what exactly happened in this dream?” he bent towards her and whispered into her ear seductively. She looked at him finally, her teal eyes meeting his smoldering grey ones, and her cheeks reddened, he smiled, already knowing the answer. He took the hand that wore his ring and kissed it, before placing it on his chest, still staring at her intensely.  
“I would know you as a man.” He stated finally.  
She trembled at the familiarity of the gesture and statement. Her blue green eyes welled with happy tears and met his stormy grey blue ones. His heart pounded and it echoed in her own chest. Her eyes dropped to the wolf jaw he wore around his neck and her fingers touched it, and she knew the answer.  
He tipped his head towards her and hovered, teasingly above her lips, before brushing his lips against her soft pout, testing the feeling of flesh against flesh. She moans in impatience and protest, then wraps her arms around his neck and pulls him against her. He growls in response and meets her kiss greedily. His tongue requests access to her mouth, which she readily grants, and he wraps his arms around her narrow waist deepening the kiss, tasting her fully.  
“Vehnan.” She whispered between urgent kisses. His hand hand laced into her hair, pulling her head back, he nibbled on her neck and ears, taking her in hungrily, she moaned in response and did not try to muffle it.  
He pulled back, and stared at her again, hair wild, skin flushed, lips swollen and eyes dark. He loved the effect he was having on her, and his own want pressed against her. She was his now, completely, and she knew him for what he truly was, and loved him. 

“Your quarters.” he got out, finally. It sounded half like a suggestion, and half like a command. If he needed him badly in the fade, she needed him even more badly in person now. No matter how realistic her dreams or the fade was, nothing was going to better than it finally happening for real and she was ready.  
He grabbed her by the hand and they darted through the stone corridor, peaked into the main hall which was mostly absent of people milling about and just had a handful of workers there to complete the restorations. They dashed across the way and slipped inside the door to her quarters, and he chased her up the stairs.

Safely inside the door, he closed the distance between them, pressing his body against hers and kissing her deeply. She grabbed at his clothes trying to undress him, eager for this to be real. She unbuttoned his shirt and he shrugged it off, her hands traced the exposed flesh of his chest and back, lighting a fire against his skin.  
He tugged up the bottom of her tunic, breaking their kiss and stepping back to do so. She arched her back assisting him in pulling her over her head, exposing her fair skin. His eyes raked over her body and his cock ached, he wanted her so badly. She shoved him backwards and he lost his balance falling back onto the bed. He propped himself up on his elbows to watch her as she bent down to remove her pants before kicking them off and climbing into his lap, straddling him.  
He gripped her hips and guided her over his member, she slid her sex back and forth over it, pressing his cock between them and pleasuring her most sensitive part with the friction, only separated by a few thin layers of fabric. His hands roamed over her form, cupping her pert breasts before softly tugging the sensitive nubs causing her to softly moan in response. Illuminated by the orange light of the setting sun, he admired how beautiful she is. Wild ashen hair, large eyes flanked by long lashes, plump swollen lips from their kisses, small round breasts, narrow waist and rounded hips topping long slender legs. He wanted to savor every moment and draw out the experience he had waited so long for. His hands dragged up her shapely thighs sending goose pimples over her skin. She stared at him with big eyes and her breasts bounced softly as she pleasured herself against him, and he bends up towards her, meeting her in a kiss before catching her hands in his and pulling her in to him. He wrapped his arms around her and rolled her off of him so that they were now facing one another side by side.  
His lips found hers again, and his hands wandered over her skin, eliciting noises as he touched and teased her. His hand went to her smalls and rubbed gently over her sex, which he could tell was already wet with desire. She let her thighs fall open granting him easier access, and he rolled his form on top of her, settling between her legs, and pressing his hips against hers, his hard member rubbing against her sex.  
His mouth moved first to her flushed, pointed ears, and then down to her neck, alternating kisses and nips bringing sensations of pain and also pleasure. “Vehnan.” He whispered into her exposed flesh, sending chills up her spine. She moaned affirmatively in response, grinding against him. She gripped his strong arms and wrapped her legs around his waist trying to pull him in closer. He moaned into her skin and tugged on her sensitive ear with his teeth.  
She writhed and whined in impatient frustration under him, finally sitting up to capture his lips in a kiss. Her hands explored his body, traveling down his muscular and defined chest, to his rock hard abs, till she reached his member, gripping him softly through the thin fabric of his pants. He growled and pressed her back into the bed, thrusting his hips against her sex and hand. His hand fondled her breasts, then slipped it between them, pulling her smalls to the side and dipping his fingers between her wet folds and teased her. She moaned more loudly now, at the direct contact with her swollen nub. He bent down and kissed her, inhaling deeply and it felt like he was stealing her breath as he did so.  
He pulled back, sliding the last bit of clothing down her shapely legs before reclaiming his place between them. He drank in the sight of her nude form, and she tried to clutch him to her again, her legs wrapping around his waist, seeking his closeness. This elicited a satisfied grin from him because of her obvious want. His hand traced down her waist and hips, before dipping between her thighs, high thumb tracing circles around her sensitive ball of nerves. Too shy to even speak, even with her wanton lust so apparent and flesh laid bare to him.  
He bent forward towards her, but ghosted her lips when she bent forward for a kiss. Instead he kissed her collar bone before dipping his head and kissing and suckling on one pert breast before moving to the other, she moaned in both pleasure and frustration. She grabbed at his strong arms trying to pull him towards her, digging her nails in softly, but he held strong, instead moving down to her flat tummy and placing a single kiss. He scooted off the edge of the bed and easily maneuvered her so that her slender legs were resting on his broad shoulders and his breath could be felt against her sex. He placed kisses on the inside of her thighs, and she propped herself up on her elbows watching him, as he dipped his head forward and ran his tongue over her slit. Her breath caught as she was overwhelmed by the sensation of his mouth on her most sensitive place. He teased her, penetrated her, and when she felt like she couldn’t take it anymore, he sucked her ball of nerves which was swollen with arousal and expertly worked his tongue up and down, sending her over the edge. She threw her head back and cried out loudly, shaking while he held fast and continued his motions. She had to finally push him back, and he laughed to himself, satisfied in her reaction.  
She collapsed back on the bed, panting and trembling, he pulls himself over her, taking his place between her hips, he litters her face with kisses, and she can taste herself on his lips. She began to tug on the ties at his waist, and he lifted his hips to help her free his cock.  
Their kisses were urgent, and dire, his hand griped tightly her hips, fingers digging into flesh as he pressed his member against her sex, the tip dipping between her folds, then sliding along her sensitive nub, causing her to gasp and moan at the friction as he stroked against her.  
He stared lovingly into her eyes, this time it’s for real, finally she is his.  
He changed the angle of his hips slightly, and slid the tip of his member inside, an amazing sensation, stretching wide her sex, he was kissing her neck, and he whispered finally. “Are you ready?” And he pressed soft tender kisses against her collar bone. She nodded her head furiously, and dug her nails into his back pulling him towards her in silent affirmation.  
He bit her then, hard on her neck, as he jerked his hips forward breaking through her maidenhead, claiming her, and stilling. She shrieked in pain, momentarily seeing stars. She whimpered slightly, feeling ripped open and stretched wide, beyond capacity. He slid his hand between them and stroked her ball of nerves, bringing back waves of pleasure, still not moving inside her. Now he kissed her tenderly, and looked into her eyes. His sense of urgency was gone and now it was clear that he planned to take his time and enjoy her for as long as possible. The pain quickly subsided, and she ground her hips against him, testing the new sensation and writing under his rigid muscular body.  
He smiled and kissed her, stroking her hair, as he took control of every motion. He moved slowly inside of her, and she felt every inch gliding into her vividly, till he was seated deeply and pressed against her womb, only for the sensation of fullness to be stolen away as he withdrew leaving her empty. She gripped him tightly, still tense from his first penetration, before relaxing into taking his length and girth as her pleasure intensified. His pubic bone stimulated her most sensitive spot with each movement and she was lost in the throws of ecstasy. He slid in and out of her more regularly and eventually she was bucking her hips meeting his every thrust as they moved together as one.  
This was completely different than it had been in the fade, not only was it more intense, but last night where it had felt primal and animalistic, and full of urgent need, Solas was now graceful, firm, and controlled. She felt as if their breathing and hearts were beating as one. She was astonished that not only did she feel it in her womb, but also her chest, and her soul. She could hardly catch her breath, taken aback how completely she needed him, and she swore she could feel his pleasure too.  
She gasped as her second orgasm was approaching quickly. She went rigid and sensing she was near, he whispered to her “Look at me.” Her teal eyes found his grey as she stiffened, crashing over the edge, crying out, as shockwaves of pleasure racked her body. He captured her cries in his kiss, nipping at her lip, holding her tightly. He rutted into her rhythmically as she spasmed, prolonging the sensation. He was by no means finished though, and he slowed his pace, kissing her passionately and kneading her flesh, taking in almost every inch of her body at a leisurely pace, as if he didn’t want it to be over too soon. He watched her intently, writhe in the pleasure he gave her. He littered her with kisses, worshiping her body with his hands and mouth as he took her. She ran her fingers along his ears, bringing his lips to her for kisses, or roaming over his muscled arms and shoulders, firm under her touch.  
They stayed joined and she came 2 more times before his breath became ragged and his control seemed to fade. He fucked her harder, pulling her tightly to him, his fingers dug into her shoulders as he pulled her into him with every thrust. As he got closer, her own pleasure mirrored his and her moans got louder, till finally, looking into her eyes, he cascaded over the edge, he slipped one hand between them and rubbed her sensitive nub bringing her once again to her peak, crashing in pleasure and crying out in helpless sobs. He pumped pulse after pulse of his seed deep within her, the walls of her sex spasming and gripping him to milk out every last drop.

He was propped up on his elbows, still inside of her, and she clung to him, weak and helpless. They both panted, she looked at him with heavy and exhausted eyes, and giggled.  
He smiled, “What?” He asked between labored breaths.  
“Mmm” she moaned and flopped her arms to the side, illustrating how completely exhausted she was, a large grin on her face.  
He chuckled and kissed the corner of her mouth softly, before withdrawing and rolling off of her.  
They collapse together, worn out and drained from the marathon of their passionate lovemaking. Their legs were entwined, and he rested his head on her chest listening to her heart while he moved his hand to her low belly where he visualized his seed taking root. She stroked his ears and sent goose pimples over his skin. She was worthy of bearing his children.  
The candles were dying down by now, who knew how long it had been, but in the moment it felt like eternity, like they had transcended time and space and were the only 2 people who existed.  
“In all of my thousands of years I have not thought that I would ever meet someone like you.” He breathed her in deeply, his fingers tracing delicate lines over the exposed milky skin of his love, as if committing every inch to memory.  
Sensing her thoughts, he stroked her head, and tucked an errant piece of hair out of her face and behind her angled ear.  
“Are you content?” He asked, eyes watching her intently for signs of regret.  
“Mmmhmmm” she hummed and nodded affirmatively.  
He smiled then, and she admired again how beautiful his face was. He was a skilled lover, a good friend, and now she knew it to be true that she loved him. Her chest swelled and it felt right in his strong arms.  
He tilted his head forward and kissed her brow. “You have made me very happy, vehnan”  
She squeezed him tighter, and closed her eyes, chasing this perfect moment.


	13. Insatiable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quick and dirty add on.

She woke up, sun streaking through the window at dawn's early light. The bed next to her was empty but as her eyes adjusted to the room, she saw the silhouette of Solas’s still nude form as he gazed out the window. Chiseled as a god, she thought to herself of his perfection.   
Sensing her attention, he broke his concentration and looked over towards her, and his face softened as he smiled at her. She yawned and stretched having slept well the night before. He returned to the bed and curled up around her, pressing his skin against her and holding her tightly, kissing the place where her shoulder met her neck. Warmth pooled in her belly at the contact, and she turned her head towards him, catching his lips in a kiss.

“Mmmm, let us never leave this bed,” she drawled out, in a sleepy yet aroused tone.   
He let out a breathy laugh and grinned at her, eager and ready again after such a lengthy performance last night.   
“You wish to wake everyone so soon after keeping them up so late last night?” He teased her.   
She hadn’t considered that everyone would have been able to hear them, but right now she didn't rightly care. She was feeling selfish, haughty, and wanted the closeness and validation that she had indeed made the right choice. She pushed him from his side to his back, and straddled his hips.   
His body responded immediately to her insistence and he grew hard under her form. She ran her hands over his chest and abs, before slipping a hand between them to grip his member and stroke him softly.  
He bit his lip and sharply inhaled at the unexpected contact. This was not the shy and coy girl from the night before.   
She worked her hips back and forth, stimulating herself with his erection, and his hands roamed her body, cupping and kneading her breasts before softly tugging at the sensitive nubs.   
When she was dripping wet and could not take the teasing anymore, she changed the angle of his cock and guided it to her entrance, sliding down on his shaft, watching every look of astonishment and pleasure on his face. She rotated her hips slowly feeling him deep inside her belly, grinding back and forth, hitting her most sensitive spots, before sliding back up and down his hard length.   
His hands moved to her hips, to guide her onto him, striving to set the pace, and seemingly ready for release already. But she had other plans. She grabbed his hands with hers and interlaced their fingers together, continuing to ride him for her own pleasure, growing closer to her peak. He removed one of his hands from her grip, and with his thumb slid circles around the sensitive nub at the top of her sex. Suddenly she started coming, and he seized his opportunity, gripping her hips again, he now drove deeply and pounded furiously into her, chasing his own orgasm. His movements intensified and prolonged hers, until finally he found release. She fell forward, bracing herself on his chest with weak arms, his cock pulsed and twitched inside of her. She collapsed finally on top of him, and he brushed her hair out of the way, so he could find her lips for a kiss. 

“Thank you” he said tenderly, and she laughed at the absurdity of the statement.   
“I would think that I should be thanking you.” She panted out, her skin slick with sweat.   
“Not at all, consider me at your disposal, at any time.” He said smiling, with a wink.   
“Sir, I would not make such promises, as I might be inclined to never let you leave.” She mirrored in a flirtatious yet formal way.   
He growled, squeezing her close and rolling her onto her back, they wrestled as she pretended to fight off his kisses, giggling furiously. He quickly had her pinned, her chest heaving, he bent to claim his prize and kissed her deeply, releasing her wrists, and she wrapped her arms around his neck to deepen the embrace. 

“Come, vehnan, with all of this sex, I have worked up quite the appetite.” He got out of the bed, then offered her a hand for her to join him.   
She slapped it away and mustered her best faux pout, even if her own stomach grumbled as well.


End file.
